


Loving You Too Long

by KnightInRainbowArmour



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: F/F, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-05-28 12:08:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 47,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19393828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightInRainbowArmour/pseuds/KnightInRainbowArmour
Summary: A Four Weddings and a Funeral AU, because why the hell not?-Charity doesn’t usually make a habit of befriending the people she sleeps with after a drunken night out, but Vanessa makes it easy for her. Easy to talk to, easy to like, easy to love. And thats the problem, isn’t it?





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> So this is going to be loosely based on that Hugh Grant movie, Four Weddings and a Funeral. I've taken a few liberties with characters pasts and things like that just to help with the flow, but it's completely AU so just roll with it for now.

It’s when Charity’s propping the two take away cups on the window ledge, tying up her damp hair into a bun on the top of her head to keep the wet strands from sticking to her face, that she catches the sound of someone walking down the pavement towards her. Footsteps echoing through the quiet high street, emptied by the sudden downpour from above. She glances up through her eyelashes to find a dishevelled looking Vanessa soaked through with her fringe sticking to her forehead, droplets of water sliding their way down her cheeks and along her jaw line.

Charity’s heart gives out a heavy, deceiving thud in her chest at the sight and her lips thin into a tight smile as she tries to fight the flush of warmth in her belly.

“How’d it go?” Charity hands Vanessa the other cup, extra milk, extra water and barely any tea itself, feeling the cold hit her hand almost immediately. Despite the betraying grin on her face, Vanessa shrugs the question off in favour and gulping down a few mouthfuls of her drink, wincing as it burns her throat and making Charity chuckle lightly in the process. “That good, eh?” She pulls a packet out of her pocket, flipping the lid open and pops a cigarette into her mouth, something to keep her busy instead of focussing on the way her heart keeps skipping every time she catches Vanessa smiling at her.

Without answering once again, Vanessa turns to peer in through the steamed-up window of the bustling café and frowns. “No seats in side?”

“Wouldn’t be stood out here if there was. That’s all your lot.” Charity mutters, kicking the toe of her shoe against one of the raised slabs of the pavement. “I should ‘ave gotten here sooner.” She says, bitterness lining her words when she continues on, slightly awkward. “Usually all down the pub, aren’t they, after these things.”

Vanessa scoffs with a smile, nudging Charity’s arm with her own. “Not sure anyone fancies getting bladdered after their first exam, we’ve still got three more to get through.”

“No doubt you’ll smash them all.” She hides the compliment behind a sip of her coffee and begins leading Vanessa off down the street, but with the rain still pouring heavily, splashing against the pavement, it’s hard to hear Vanessa following, her footsteps muffled by the sound of the rain bouncing against the ground. Charity turns and catches Vanessa beaming up at her. “What?”

Vanessa’s smile doesn’t falter when she falls into step with Charity’s long strides. “Thanks for the tea.” Charity lets out a huff in response, she’s not the best at holding a conversation, and sometimes she struggles to keep one up with Vanessa since that first night in the club nearly six months ago now. It had been a one-night stand, that’s all either of them had intended it to be, no strings attached, no feelings... But the following morning when Charity had woken up to the smell of coffee and bacon filling Vanessa’s student house, the gurgling in her stomach had dragged her from Vanessa’s unbelievably comfortable bed, albeit disgruntledly, and into the small kitchen where Charity had hitched herself up onto the counter beside the sizzling bacon and Vanessa, and she’d stayed there for hours after, finding herself enjoying the easy conversation that Vanessa supplied, even if it had been one sided for the most part.

But that’s just it, Charity thinks; her mind spiralling down that path again when she leads Vanessa to her car, Vanessa makes everything easy, easy to like her, easy to spend time with her, easy to love her… easy to be friends with her, and that, Charity knows, is why she’s struggling now.

“How’re the kids?” Vanessa’s hurriedly throwing herself into the passenger seat before Charity can even pull her key out of the door to unlock the car.

“Still at each other’s throats.” She hands her sickly warm coffee back to Vanessa to hold while she pulls out into the road and flicks her cigarette out of the window. “Ryan keeps asking to see you, though.”

That pulls a smile at Vanessa’s lips that Charity doesn’t miss, it’s always bright, always drawing all the darkness and gloom from the air around her. It makes the grey skies and rain outside seem warmer than it is. “Tell Irene I’ll be over after my exams.”

Laughing, Charity wiggles in her seat excitedly. “That means lasagne for tea.” She says, pulling out onto the main road that leads them out of the city centre and back to Vanessa’s house. “Knew I kept you around for a reason.”

“Pretty sure it’s the other way around.” Vanessa snips back, kicking her feet up onto the dash board. “You’re insufferable, you’re loud, annoying… don’t get me started on the smoking.”

“Cheers, Ness.”

“But, you’re my own personal taxi service, you bring me tea, and I like your kids, so.”

“I should start charging you for my services.” Charity mutters with a dark sense of humour when they come to a stop at a set of red lights, the glow shining through the rain and illuminating the inside of the car. “You want to grab some food or?”

Shaking her head as she hands Charity her coffee before the lights turn green, Vanessa turns her cheek against the headrest so she’s facing her. “Rhona’s got some left overs in the fridge that she said we could have.”

Charity doesn’t try to hide her eyerolls and annoyance anymore, not like she had when she’d first started spending time with Vanessa and by association, her roommates. “She’s just as bad as your mother, she is.”

Vanessa purses her lips, holding back any scolding remarks on the tip of her tongue. “No one is as bad as my mum.”

That makes Charity laugh because the memory of her first meeting with Vanessa’s mother and her boyfriend of the week, had been one that she’s not likely to forget anytime soon. Charity always spends her Sunday evenings with Vanessa after a weekend of pot washing down at her local. They curl up in her bed and order a Chinese or a pizza and binge on crappy TV, the way Vanessa likes it and Charity doesn’t complain. They’re never interrupted by her house mates or by Irene calling Charity to ask where she is, but Vanessa’s mum hadn’t been kept in the loop on that particular piece of information and to come barging in on the pair who were close to sleep, hadn’t ended well for either of them. Charity remembers the way Vanessa’s mum had stared at them for a moment, her face beaming with happiness, then confusion and shock, then anger as she’d jumped to the first conclusion.

She’s getting lost in her thoughts again because the car behind them beeps their horn with a little more force behind it than they probably need to, but it reminds Charity that she’s supposed to be driving. “She still think we’re together?” 

“Never stops asking.” Vanessa huffs and crosses her arms, sloshing her tea over the brim and down the front of her shirt. It’s cooled down enough that it doesn’t burn but her bottom lip juts out in that way that makes Charity’s shoulders drop their defences. “I don’t know why she’s so opposed to the idea anyway, you’re not that bad.” She says, wiping aimlessly at the stain.

Charity smirks instead of letting her face soften the ways its threatening to. “Maybe because-”

“Speaking of my mum…” Vanessa cuts off whatever snide remark Charity is about to let slip and turns to face her once again, this time with an almost wary expression.

“Come on. Spit it out, Ness.” Charity says, just as she pulls up outside a line of terraced houses. The one with the black door belonging to Vanessa. It’s a grimy area of the city, just on the outskirts in the rough part of Leeds where you really shouldn’t be walking alone at night if you don’t want to get stabbed and want to keep all of your money safe in your pockets. It’s not somewhere Charity sees Vanessa living in the future, not that she’s thought about that much, of course she hasn’t, only on the odd occasion she lets her mind wander.

Vanessa makes quick work of unlocking the front door, holding it open for Charity to follow in behind her. It’s not much warmer inside, the cold seeping in through the single glazed windows. “I asked Paddy to get the heating sorted.” Vanessa mutters when she skates the back of her hand along the radiator beside the stairs. She leads Charity through the house, into the kitchen where she pulls a dish of what looks to be shepherd’s pie from the fridge and slides it into the oven before turning to a close rack and yanks of a clean t-shirt. Charity immediately averts her eyes. “Beer?” 

She’ll be staying over, then, she thinks, and makes a mental note to call Irene and let her know. “Ta.” Charity watches Vanessa carefully as she pulls the green bottle from the bottom shelf of the fridge and pops the cap on the counter top, a skill that had surprised Charity that very first night. “Now, you gonna stop being weird and tell me what’s up?”

“I’m not being weird,” Vanessa starts, “just don’t want to make you run for the hills.”

This makes the slight frown on Charity brow crease even further, the bottle stopping inches from her lips. “Run for the hills?” She asks cautiously. “You’re not about to pop the question are you, Ness? We’ve only had sex once, was I that good?”

The playful teasing seems to help, and Vanessa rounds the small dining table to hoist herself up onto the counter beside Charity. “Shut up.” She says, but the light dusting of red that rises up her neck and onto her cheeks doesn’t go unmissed by Charity. “I was just gonna ask if you wanted to come with me to this wedding.”

“Your mums?” Charity scoffs at the very thought. “She’d love that.”

“That’s kind of the point.” She only looks slightly embarrassed when she turns to face Charity, the smell of mince and potato beginning to fill the kitchen.

“Bit spiteful of you, isn’t it? That’s more something I’d do.”

“You’re not as bad as you pretend to be, y’know?” The reply comes so quick that Charity’s stumped into a silence. “I could just do with the company, that’s all, and if I get to wind her and Geoff up at the same time then…” Vanessa trails off with a smug shrug, taking a sip of her own beer.

“Suppose I could ask Irene to watch the kids for a few hours.” Charity sighs as though she’s going out of her way to do this one favour, but they both know, despite Charity’s tough façade, that when it comes to Vanessa, it’s always easy for her to say yes. 

“Thank you.” Vanessa says gently, placing a careful hand on the top of Charity’s thigh. It stays there for a second or two before Vanessa’s sliding off the counter. “Want to have this upstairs?”

Charity drains the last of her beer, moving over to the fridge to grab two more. “Yeah. Can I borrow that spare permit for the car?”

“Top shelf.” Vanessa says, plating up their food. “I’ll be in my room.”

“Just gonna call home an’ all.”

They’re both hungrier than they’d first thought, Charity racing back downstairs to fill their plates with a second helping and another round of drinks. She likes nights like these, with Vanessa, even if she is revising while Charity aimlessly flicks through the channels on the TV or picks up the book on the bedside table that Vanessa has started to read. It’s quiet and its easy, and it gives her the chance to relax, escape from her own reality of two kids who are quickly approaching ten, running rings around her like there’s no tomorrow.

She loves them with all of her heart, every inch of it, Irene too, but there’s a part of it reserved only for Vanessa. She feels that part of her heart give a heavy thud when Vanessa climbs into the bed beside her wearing one of Charity’s Salvation Army t-shirts that she’d bought from the kids playgroups a couple of years ago. Vanessa curls into her side, tugging Charity’s arm across her middle even when she’s half asleep.

She thinks that, as she’s following Vanessa into the land of dreams, that part of her heart always will belong to Vanessa, whether she knows it, or not.

-

Charity tugs at the strap of her heel, panting heavily because she’s already twenty minutes late, and uses the wall beside the front door to steady herself while she tries to stop the small buckle from rubbing irritably against her ankle, holding her cigarette tightly between her lips. She’s not a fan of dressing up, jeans and a shirt, sure, but a dress? That’s never been her thing, especially when she has to match it with a pair of ridiculously tall heels. She clouts her knuckles against the front door with a little more force than necessary and she winces at the sound, the skin above the bones turning white then red beneath the cold air.

She’s about to apologise to Vanessa when the door opens the whole way and she’s met by Paddy instead, looking as though he’s just crawled his way out of bed. “Padster.” Charity says in greeting, flicking the cigarette against the brick wall and side stepping him before he can offer to let her in.

“I was up all night revising, you know.” He says to her back because she’s already climbing the stairs, two steps at a time in a hurry.

“Don’t have any medals on me, sorry, big man.” She rounds the corner at the top of the stairs and heads down the hallway towards Vanessa’s bedroom. Her knock comes lighter this time and she waits for Vanessa to open the door before she walks in.

Not that she can. The second Vanessa opens her bedroom door, half of her hair curled, makeup waiting to be finished and her sunshine, yellow dress unzipped at the back, Charity finds herself frozen. Or she is for a second, because then she feels her knees going week and she has to hold onto the doorframe to keep herself steady while her eyes scan up and down the length of Vanessa’s body, taking her in.

“Wow.” She manages and immediately wants to kick herself at how dazed she sounds.

“Speak for yourself.” Vanessa’s voice comes through a whisper and it’s then that Charity notices the equally glazed expression on her face. “Where’ve you been hiding that outfit?” She asks, stepping aside to let Charity into her room with her eyes glued to her figure.

“Irene helped me pick it out.” She mutters dumbly, slumping down onto Vanessa’s bed and tossing her keys to the pillow, grateful for the sturdy surface beneath her and all concept goes forgotten. “Sorry I’m late.”

“You should let her do that more often.” Vanessa teases, sitting back down in front of her cluttered vanity to finish up her hair, smirking at the mirror when Charity shoots her a glare. “Can you give me a hand?”

“But I’m comfortable.” She whines, despite the fact that she’s already rounding the edge of the bed to stand behind Vanessa. “Pass it here then.”

“Thank you.” Vanessa says softer than she needs to be, but hands Charity the curling wand. She has to crouch down, her heels giving her too much height, and it leaves her closer to Vanessa than she wants to be when she looks this good and with an eyeful of skin on show because she still hasn’t zipped up her dress yet.

“Debbie wanted to come with me.” Talking, that’s a good distraction, or it would be if Vanessa’s eyes didn’t meet her own in the mirror, the brilliant smile on her lips tugging high enough to shine through the blue of her irises. “But I think that’s just so she could see you looking like a bloody princess,” she scoffs jokingly, dropping a curl against the palm of her hand so it doesn’t burn Vanessa’s back. “Get that dress straight from Paris, did you?”

The smile that Charity is rewarded with sends her heart thudding high in her chest and a sickly feeling forming in the pit of her stomach. She doesn’t need this, not after she’s managed to convince herself that all they can be is friends, no confusion or strings attached.

“Charity, are you _flirting_?” Vanessa gasps as she feigns shock, holding her hand to her chest. Before, Charity can reply however, shooting back a teasing retort of her own, Vanessa’s busying herself with her mascara, too preoccupied to take notice of the blush that rises to her cheeks.

“Rhona and Paddy busy then?” Charity only just manages to clear her throat without chocking on that sickly feeling that’s steadily working its way up her chest.

“Busy for what?”

Shrugging, Charity keeps her eyes trained on the hair curled around the wand in her hand. “To come with you today.”

“Oh,” Vanessa manages, leaning closer to the mirror to steady the eyeliner pencil in her hand. “I didn’t ask them.”

She chews down the sarcastic quip screaming on the tip of her tongue and settles on, “well, it’s a good job I were free then, init.” She flicks the curling wand off at the plug before placing it on the edge of the desk. “There you go, hair done. You want me to zip that up for you an’ all or are you capable of doing that yourself?”

Finishing up her makeup, Vanessa gives herself a quick once over in the mirror before she stands, dusting off any powder from her brushes that may have fallen to her dress. “I’ve got it.”

“Let’s get going then, meters running, babe.” Charity jokes, snatching up the keys from the pillow and waving out her hand in an over the top bow as Vanessa moves around her, clutching her heels and bag in her hands on the way.

“Do I not get a friends discount?” Vanessa asks sarcastically over her shoulder on their way down the stairs. Paddy’s bumbling about in the kitchen and Charity can hear Rhona stirring somewhere down the hall.

“Lines are a bit blurred with us, aren’t they?” She’s only half joking when the front door opens and a cold blast of autumn wind hits them, sucking the air straight from her lungs.

Vanessa’s face scrunches up in confusion over the top of the car, waiting for Charity to unlock the doors. “Why’d you say that?”

Charity’s not sure what to say to that, she’s always assumed it had been obvious to Vanessa, that this was always something more than a friendship but at the same time something less… it had been tainted from the beginning, but that in its own way, had been what had brought them so close so quickly.

“Did you sleep with Paddy and Rhona first?” She asks, while she buckles up her seatbelt. “I just mean that friendships don’t usually start up like that, do they.”

“Well no, but…” The sound of the engine spluttering, struggling to start has Vanessa trailing off before it eventually roars to life. “You need to get yourself a new car, Charity.”

“If only I could afford one.” Charity says, rolling her eyes as she pulls out into the road. “But what?”

Flicking down the sun visor, Vanessa checks her makeup in the mirror, running a finger beneath her eye carefully. “You don’t regret it?”

“Us having sex?” Charity asks, turning briefly to look at Vanessa. “Never, babe, best I’ve had.” She says it like she’s teasing, trying to lighten the mood, but she’s barely admitted to herself that those words are true, and it only aids the feeling bubbling away in her stomach.

Vanessa chuckles, swatting at Charity’s arm playfully. “What’s the problem then?”

“I don’t know. There isn’t one, I suppose.” Charity says, shrugging, she doesn’t want to start an argument, not one so petty, anyway. So, she lets them both fall into a peaceful silence, comfortable for about five minutes until it’s broken with a start.

“ _Shit_.” Vanessa unexpectedly barks, making Charity pitch hazardously in her seat, foot pressing hard enough on the accelerator that the car gives a dangerous lurch. They swerve into the middle of the road before she can regain control.

“What?” Charity’s chest heaves as she presses a hand against her heart in a vain attempt to ease the pounding and she turns to find Vanessa clutching her own wrist in her hand.

With wide eyes, she turns to face Charity. “We’re late.”

It’s then that Charity remembers hurrying to Vanessa’s in the first place. “It’s fine,” she says, but presses her foot gently into the peddle.

“Would help if your car could get over forty.” Vanessa mutters, rubbing her hand against her forehead restlessly.

“Pretty sure it is over forty.” Charity says and clutches the wheel tighter beneath her hands.

“I meant the speed, not it’s age.” Vanessa snaps, but she doesn’t mean for it to come out as harsh as it does, because she quickly shoots Charity an apologetic look. “Sorry,” she says quickly, “I just don’t want to give her another reason to twine at me.”

“We’ll get there.” Charity reassures her, taking her hand off the gear stick once she’s shifted down into fourth as they approach the slip road and laces her fingers with Vanessa’s. “Promise.” 

Charity might break a few laws to keep that promise, taking a bus lane in the middle of Hotten centre and flooring it through one or two red lights, but she manages it. They arrive a couple of minutes late but there’s still a few stragglers making their way through the car park and Vanessa visibly relaxes beside Charity.

“Please behave…” She whispers, linking her arm through Charity’s when they begin to make their way across the gravel path and up the steps into the church. “I know she winds you up.”

“Can’t make any promises.” She teases as they come to a stop just at the foot of the doors. “So,” she says, already smirking, “If we’re really going to get to your mum and Geoff, how do you want to play this?”

“How’d you mean?”

“Do you want me to gay it up a bit? Make my voice deeper,” she says, lowering her tone and making Vanessa laugh, “get a bit touchy feely,” she reaches out to tickle at Vanessa’s ribs, causing her laughter to grow in volume as she slaps at Charity’s hands.

When an elderly woman approaching up the gravel pathway, glaring at them almost curiously, Vanessa manages to wrangle Charity’s hands between her own, bringing her to a stop. “Hello, auntie Barbara.”

“Bit late, aren’t you darling?” The woman says, climbing the steps with the help of a walking stick to join Vanessa and Charity. She looks a little too old to be her auntie, hair greying at the roots and wrinkles too deep to be covered with makeup. She’s old enough to be Vanessa’s mum’s auntie, however, she’s more ‘grandma’ than ‘cool auntie’. “Let’s hope you haven’t forgotten the ring, eh.” She says joking, laughing to herself while she sides steps around Vanessa and wanders into the church.

But Vanessa’s face drops and a ghostly white hue spreads across her features.

“Christ, Ness.” Charity gasps. “You didn’t forget the bloody ring, did you?” She has to physically fight the urge to laugh at the ridiculousness of the whole situation, clamping her jaw shut tightly.

“I… I put it on my dresser so I wouldn’t forget it.” She stutters, hands coming up to cup her cheeks comically, jaw dropping in horror. “Fuck, Charity, I’ve forgotten the ring.”

It’s the first time Charity’s heard Vanessa swear, other than the occasional ‘bugger’ she lets slip when she stubs her toe or makes a silly mistake in an essay, and if it were any other occasion, Charity would probably have a lot to say about that, but the dread and panic that’s beginning to pour off her in waves has Charity stepping in closer. “Here,” she says, tugging the silver band from her thumb. It cheap, silver plated and scratched, but it was one Irene had bought her from a market stall by the sea one time. “Use this for now, an’ then when you get the chance, you can explain and give your mum the proper ring, can’t you?”

Vanessa stares down at the ring for a few seconds, the silence stretching out too long, because they’re already late and for Vanessa to be even questioning this right now is setting Charity on edge. She eventually looks up, smile replacing the frown. “You think this will fit on Geoff’s sausage fingers?”

Charity snorts around a laugh, the breath already there to fuel it. “Maybe to the first knuckle, it’ll be funny watching your mum trying to ram it on, though.”

“You’re a life saver.” Vanessa says instead of letting the panic inside her body escalate. It’s a solution, not a very good one, but it’s all they have, and she seems grateful for the help. “Thank you.” She reaches up on her tip toes and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of Charity’s mouth, a barely there touch, and if it wasn’t for the ghost of breath, Charity wouldn’t have felt a thing.

She gives Vanessa a tight squeeze around her middle, ignoring the way her cheeks burn at the contact.

The wedding car pulls up then, pulling the two apart. “I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?” Charity says, inching towards the door and away from the dragon of a woman pouring out of the car like a melting meringue.

“Behave.” Vanessa calls after as a teasing warning but Charity waves her off with a playful wink, hurrying down the aisle and into the first available seat in a pew third from the front. “Hello.” She says with a bright smile that she hopes doesn’t look as forced as it is, realising then she’s sat herself down next to auntie Barbara.

“Hello again, dear.” The elderly woman greets, turning to face Charity. “I didn’t catch your name before.”

“I’m Charity.” She stretches her hand out for the other woman to shake.

“Oh, the Red Cross?” Barbara doesn’t look confused, despite her words, a faraway smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Charity recognises the signs immediately and softens sadly.

“Not the charity, that's my name.” She corrects gently, allowing Barbara to hold on to her hand for a moment longer.

Her breath smells strongly of alcohol and it makes Charity’s eyes water when she sighs. “Don’t be silly, of course the Red Cross is a charity.” But she’s turning to face the front before Charity can argue, holding onto her hand when the organ starts up, and doesn’t drop it until they stand for the first hymn.

Charity finds herself checking, on more than one occasion, to see if Barbara is still breathing throughout the service, when she falls unusually quiet when the rest of the guests laugh at something Geoff says in his vows or when Vanessa’s mum lets out a deep grunt when she manages to jam the ring onto his finger. She’s past the point of tipsy and the notion sets Charity on edge throughout the morning until they’re set free from the church and she finds Vanessa through the crowds of guests.

“Thank you.” She moans breathlessly, tugging Charity into a tight hug.

“What for?” Charity chuckles into the crook of Vanessa’s neck, holding her tight.

“For saving me a whole day of ‘you had one job, Vanessa,’” She says, doing her best impression of her own mother.

“Well,” Charity shrugs, “couldn’t have you bein’ in a bad mood all day, could I? What fun would that be?”

But Vanessa sees right through her façade, she always does, and presses another kiss to the corner of her mouth, firmer this time, and she holds the contact for a beat longer. “Can I get a lift?”

“Not fancy going with the happy couple?” Charity teases, unwinding herself from Vanessa’s arms and leading her over to the tired looking car at the far end of the car park.

“Would rather go with you.” Vanessa says simply as she reaches across the gear stick once they’re buckled in and making their way through the church yard and out onto the main road.

The pair fall quiet, and when Charity moves to pull her hands free to change gear, it’s quickly caught again, clasped firmly in Vanessa’s hand where it remains for the rest of the drive.

That should be the first warning bell, she should have realised that the lines were too far past the point of being solid between them, blown away like dust on the mid-autumn breeze outside that’s rattling the dirt coated back window of her car.

Because she doesn’t try to pull her hand away, instead, she twists her wrist to tangle her fingers through Vanessa’s and squeezes gently.

It should all be too much for Charity when the rest of the day goes the same way. The reception dinner is easy, though, with food to distract her, good food as well, she doesn’t register the little touches here and there and if she does, she convinces herself it’s for show, to wind up Geoff and Mrs Woodfield.

It does, and well, because when it comes to raise their glasses to the ‘happy couple,’ Vanessa’s mum looks anything but, silently seething as she glares daggers at both Charity and Vanessa.

“I think your mum’s about to claw my eyes out, babe.” Charity mutters when the sound of chairs scraping back into place bounces of the walls of the hall.

Chuckling, Vanessa leans in closer to whisper into Charity’s ear. “She wouldn’t in front of all these people, just don’t let her catch you alone.”

“Thanks for the advice, Ness.” Charity mutters but she’s smiling because Vanessa’s still leaning into her side when the band start playing at the other side of the room, softly humming along to the tune.

Charity’s first mistake, not counting the hand holding in the car and the kisses earlier that day, is when she offers to go up to the bar to get Vanessa and her cousins a drink. She’s not quite alone but without Vanessa she’s easy pickings.

“Charity.” The hairs on the back of her neck bristle and her breathing stalls in her chest. She turns to find Vanessa’s mum matching her for height.

“Mrs Woodfield.” She manages to keep her voice cool and steady, despite the bout of anger, and what she refuses to recognise as fear, bubbling high in her chest. It’s all fine and well laughing about the situation with Vanessa, but it’s far from funny when she’s face to face with the punchline of their jokes. “Vanessa tells me you’re keeping your last husbands name.” She tries for casual conversation in a vain attempt to delay the inevitable. “Good choice. ‘Bonner’ doesn’t have the same ring to it…”

Vanessa’s mum takes a calculated sip of her wine before she makes any move to talk to Charity. “I’m surprised to see you here.” She says, purposefully ignoring her failed attempt at what was probably supposed to be banter, nose turning up when she lets her eyes meet Charity’s for a brief moment.

Shrugging, Charity props her elbow up on the bar, feigning an air of indifference. “Vanessa invited me, hope that’s okay.” She doesn’t say it like a question because whether Mrs Woodfield likes it or not, Vanessa _had_ invited her, and she wasn’t likely to decline the offer, but Vanessa’s mum sees right through her façade, a burning scowl opening up the ground beneath Charity’s feet that threatens to swallow her whole.

“Can’t say I’m best pleased with my daughter’s decisions lately.” Vanessa’s mum punctuates her words by urgently placing her wine down on the bar top, causing Charity to wince at the sound of glass struggling under the force. “Funny that,” she says, taking a purposeful step towards Charity. “Don’t you think?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She does a good job of keeping her head held high despite the screaming voice of the younger version of herself in the back of her head telling her to bolt.

“You’re a bad influence on her.” Charity can’t be certain, but she thinks she hears Vanessa’s mum’s voice wobble slightly, a fierce rage burning in the brown of her eyes. “And I don’t like how much time she spends with you.” She sneers. “ _Friends_. I know what happened between the two of you and I don’t care how many times Vanessa denies it, there’s something going on and I want it to stop. Now.”

“There’s nothing going on with Vanessa and me.” Charity laughs almost disbelievingly, eyes wide.

Vanessa’s mum takes a step back, but Charity can still feel the threat heavy in the air between them. “I’m not homophobic, as long as my daughter’s happy, then I’m happy.”

“What’s your problem with me then?”

The smirk in response to her question sets Charity on edge. “Do you think I don’t know who you are? I read the newspapers, Charity, saw what that policeman did to you.” She’s playing with the ring on her finger, avoiding Charity’s dumbfounded stare. “You’ll end up hurting her, I know your kind, she cares for you too much and I really don’t think you have it in you to give her the same in return.”

Just as the words spill from her lips, a hand circles around Charity’s hips and squeeze tightly, stalling any argument that’s beginning to brew, a fight for Vanessa’s honour whether it’s needed or not. “Wondered what was taking you so long, Tony was getting impatient waiting for his beer.” Vanessa says, chuckling quietly into Charity’s ear, oblivious to the conversation unfolding before her.

“Charity and I were just having a chat.”

“Oh, right?” Vanessa says, her grip tightening subconsciously on her hip when she clicks on, turning her body away from Charity slightly. She’s thankful that Vanessa can’t see the way her cheeks have turned pale, the colour draining from her face. Her mum’s eyes zero in on the contact and a neatly shaped eyebrow steadily rises up her forehead, the scowl having faded into one of practiced indifference. There’s not a lick of her mum in Vanessa, they’re complete opposites and the realisation makes Charity want to get down on her knees and thank any and every god in existence. “About…?”

“I was just surprised to see her here.” She starts, taking a sip of her drink again. “When I said you could invite someone, I thought you would have brought that nice girl you live with, Rhona, or even Patrick.”

Charity can all but feel the static bristling along Vanessa’s frame, nervous electricity beneath her skin that collides with Charity’s own anxious energy. “You didn’t say I couldn’t invite Charity.” And the way she says it, the way her name falls from Vanessa’s lips, reminds Charity of the conversation they’d had the night Vanessa had asked her to come to the wedding as her date. _As friends_ , Charity corrects herself, but Vanessa had wanted to wind her mum up, so who’s Charity to deny her that one small privilege? But it feels almost as though Vanessa’s licking Charity’s wounds, the blade of her mum’s tongue reopening wounds across the surface of her body, perhaps not deep enough to cause any lasting damage, but enough to hurt nonetheless.

“Ness, I-” Charity makes to leave, leaning unnecessarily close to her ear as she speaks like she’ll collapse if she doesn’t, but Vanessa’s grip remains strong, keeping her in place.

“No, stay.” Vanessa slides her hand down to link with Charity’s, a move she assumes is to wind her mum up even more and takes a step back. They’re taking this too far now, her mum’s eyes burning dark with furious rage and she doesn’t want to know what will happen when Mrs Woodfield eventually erupts, Charity deep within the danger zone. “I wanted Charity to come so if you have a problem with that, we’ll leave.”

Vanessa isn’t close to her mum, but that’s the last thing she wants, she doesn’t want to be a factor in the breakdown of a decent – that’s putting it nicely – relationship. Charity knows they’re rare because she was lucky to find Irene, but the rest of her own family want nothing to do with her and the thought of Vanessa having to go through any of that, hurts Charity to even think of it.

Her mum is silent for a moment, mulling her daughter’s words over carefully, eyes flickering between them both before she releases a calming sigh with a face set like stone. “Stay.” She says, her words hard. “But don’t embarrass me.” And with that, she storms off to join the rest of the wedding party her words stinging Charity more than she wants to let on in front of Vanessa.

“Sorry about her.” Vanessa whispers, her voice shaking slightly when her eyes drop to her feet, embarrassed. “She shouldn’t have said that.” Charity think’s it’s the first time she’s ever seen Vanessa stand up to her mother, standing her ground for her sake, and a bolt of something hot falls like a lead ball low in her stomach, extinguishing the petrified frost that Mrs Woodfield’s words had left behind.

“Hey,” Charity sighs softly. This is her second mistake. She takes a step forward and winds her arms around Vanessa’s waist, tugging her closer so that their chests are pressed firmly together. “It’s okay, I’ve heard worse. _You’ve_ said worse.” She adds as a teasing remark which she hopes will bring that smile back to Vanessa’s lips. It does, but their close proximity sucks the air from between them like a blackhole, leaving a hot and heavy weight settling on top.

“I never mean it.” Vanessa’s eyes dip low and Charity’s heart gives an echoing beat in response.

“No, you don’t.” Charity admits, feeling her hands twitch like a betrayal against Vanessa’s back, the skin hot beneath the fabric of her dress. “But it’s still okay.” Her breath ghosts through her words, feather light when it bounces back from Vanessa’s lips and hits her skin.

It’s enough, she doesn’t know why or how, but Vanessa inches closer. It must be the alcohol, she thinks, but even that sounds like a weak excuse, neither have touched more than two glasses since that afternoon. And the conversation, while brief, from that morning, accompanied with her mother’s warning, rings like an alarm in the back of her mind. Two friends who find each other attractive, a friendship built on the foundations of a one-night stand, could never work, could never be stable, and in the end, Charity knows she’s dooming the pair of them.

But she doesn’t stop herself from leaning in to meat Vanessa’s lips with her own.

“Vanessa!”

They’re barely inches from one another when Vanessa’s auntie Barbara comes barrelling into her side, mumbling something incoherent about how beautiful the whole day has been, but it brings the pair back to a stark reality, cold and dark and a little bit miserable.

“How much have you had to drink?” Vanessa carefully untangles herself from Charity’s arms and reaches out to hold her auntie steady.

“Can I just say, V,” she slurs, and even Charity can smell the gin on her breath, “that you and your girlfriend make a beautiful couple.”

Charity feels her chest burn with a bright pink blush at the same time Vanessa’s cheeks turn rosy, glancing her way from the corner of her eye. “Thank you.” She mutters walking the older woman over to a table close to the bar.

The third mistake that Charity makes that evening is reaching over to the bar where Vanessa’s mum’s wine sits abandoned on the counter top. She necks it in one, feeling a warm burn that both ignites the heat between her legs as her eyes follow Vanessa, and dulls her focus on the fact that Vanessa hadn’t denied it.

“How about a dance?” Vanessa says gently once she’s sat Barbara down into a nearby chair with a pint of water, cheeks flushed, and eyes glazed slightly. Her arms come back to snake around Charity’s shoulders, playing with the hairs at the nape of her neck, apparently oblivious to the way she’s sending shivers racing down Charity’s spine.

“Sure.” Charity answers quickly, and lets Vanessa drag her out towards the dance floor where a flood of family and friends have already congregated. She lets the break in contact settle her heart for a moment, heaving in a breath of warm air into her lungs.

By the time Vanessa manages to wrangle them into a comfortable spot somewhere to the left of the dance floor, the upbeat song is coming to an end, fading off into a deep voice, the sound of a song that Charity recognises from her childhood. It sounds different coming through the set of speakers up by the DJ than it had done from her mum’s old record player, but Charity still feels a shiver somewhere between the back of her neck and the base of her spine when Otis Redding begins singing the opening line.

“Typical.” Charity scoffs as she readjusts her stance in front of Vanessa, winding her hands carefully around her waist, settling her palms flat against the small of her back.

Vanessa chuckles softly and links her arms around the back of Charity’s neck. “Shut up and dance.” She teases, beginning to sway Charity in time with the tune until she picks up her pace to match Vanessa’s.

It’s easy for her to forget about Mrs Woodfield and her warning, because having Vanessa look at her like this, just like the rest of the room has slipped out of existence and it’s just the two of them left, has Charity melting against her front. She lets her head drop to Vanessa’s shoulder, inhaling the familiar smell of floral perfume mixed with citrus shampoo as they listen to the words of the song, feeling them settle with something hot and static between them.

Charity feels like there’s a magnet sitting low in her gut and it pulls her closer to Vanessa until their flushed from their chests to their thighs.

“I like this song.” Vanessa whispers into the shell of Charity’s ear, her breath smooth and warm against her skin.

“Oh aye,” Charity tries to joke, “begging someone to not to leave you,” but her words wobble as she speaks, “not desperate at all.” She’s drowning in Vanessa as her voice betrays her, heat pooling like lava low in her stomach, flowing between her legs in a rush.

Vanessa inches back slightly so that she can look into her eyes. Charity’s downfall when Vanessa glances down, pupils propelling the blue of her iris into pits of blackness. “I think it’s more than that…”

Charity feels herself inching closer, nose grazing Vanessa’s as she inhales with every one of Vanessa’s exhales. “Yeah?’

“Course.” Vanessa says simply, her hands relaxing around to Charity’s front where they settle on her shoulders. “It’s about being in love with someone who wants to push you away.” Her grip slackens ever so slight, only to trail down to her collar bones to gently drum out the rhythm of the song over Charity’s heart with her right hand. “But you can’t let them because they love you too, deep down.”

Charity doesn’t trust herself to speak then, breath caught painfully in her throat, burning up to her eyes. Vanessa’s never been one for subtlety, and the simplicity in which she speaks has Charity feeling like she’s drowning, submerged within tangle of decisions of right and wrong.

“I know we were going to stay…” Vanessa croaks quietly when it becomes apparent to her that Charity doesn’t have anything to input. “But do you maybe want to head back to mine instead?”

It takes Charity less than a second to reply, but it feels like an age as her thoughts begin to swirl around the inside of her head. They could go back, eat some food, watch a movie and pass out, maybe even risk a beer or two. Or, and it’s a big risk, Charity knows this, she could take notice of the way Vanessa’s chest is still heaving, flushed with a faint red hue up to her cheeks, and heavy eyes that continue to drop to her own lips, and kiss her the second they get back to Vanessa’s small terraced house on the outskirts of Leeds in the rough part of the city.

“Okay.”

She’ll decide which mistake she’s going to make in the car.

-

_“Sit down.” His breath stinks of whisky and Charity has to hold her breath when she sits down on the couch beside him. Obadiah’s eyes seem glassy and red, more than they usually do and when he reaches out to place a hand on top of Charity’s, there’s a shudder to his movements that she thinks has less to do with whatever he wants to talk to her about and more to do with the empty bottle that sits on the corner table beside them._

_Charity can’t will her eyes to look up to his face when she speaks, keeping them glued to the photo frame up on the mantel. “Where’s mum?”_

_Obadiah makes a dissatisfied noise somewhere in the back of his throat when he pulls his hand from Charity’s. He stands and makes his way over to the cabinet on the other end of the room, yanking a half empty bottle from its midst._

_“She’s dead.” He doesn’t say it with sympathy or sorrow, or with any ounce of the emotion that he should. But Charity doesn’t notice, it’s not out of the ordinary for him. Instead, she turns to face him, blank expression unwavering._

_“How?” Charity turns back to the photo and feels something thick and heavy form in her throat._

_“Cancer.” He mutters around the lip of the bottle pressed to his mouth. “Died in her sleep.”_

_“On her own?” Her voice sounds small and insignificant in that moment, but she’s numb to any coherent thought. Her mind spirals to her mother, the photo of their family blurring behind salty tears. She’s dead, she died, and now Charity’s alone with the drunken shell off a man who’s swaying precariously in the middle of the room._

_Obadiah curls the bottle against the wall in a sudden fit of consuming rage, and it shatters, spraying the room in whisky and glass. She feels the shards cut into her bare shins but doesn’t flinch. “Never fall in love with someone like that, Charity.” He spits, eyes hard. “It’s not worth it in the end.”_

Vanessa’s bedroom is filled with the smell of pizza, which sits untouched on her vanity, beer, six empty bottles on the bedside table threatening to fall to the carpet, and sex, hot and strong against the others. But Charity can’t seem to focus on the onslaught against her nose because she can feel herself falling deeper into her memories, the thoughts that flash through the forefront of her mind, just as painful as they had been that sardonically sunny afternoon, the catalyst for the years that followed painfully and torturously after.

She thinks its Mrs Woodfield’s words from the night before that does, triggers her subconscious into firing up the old memories.

Charity’s still panicking, even as the sunlight streams in through the open curtains, but it’s not as strong as it had been the night before. She hasn’t slept, how could she with Vanessa pressed up against her side, naked and breathing steadily into the crook of her neck like they haven’t just ruined six months worth of something solid, something _good_.

This was inevitable, Charity thinks as the first sound of the birds outside begin to rouse with the rest of the world, that they were going to fall back into bed together. This or something else, something akin to the end.

She doesn’t know why this feels like both, however, struggling to find a difference between the two, because her heart beats steady in her chest like she’s happy, content to just stay this way with Vanessa for as long as she’ll have her, but her head, her brain, pounds like a drum, _get out_ , _get out_ , _get out_ …

She wants this, whatever it is, whatever Vanessa is willing to offer her, but she knows now that there’s no way they can go back to being just friends. Charity cares too much to settle for that now.

But what can she give Vanessa, really? Mrs Woodfield had looked at her like she’d crawled out of a drain the night before, like she was something nasty, poisonous, and that image stings like a knife to her chest.

“What’s up?” Vanessa’s voice, rough with sleep, vibrates against her collar bone, bringing Charity back to reality. “I can hear you thinking.” She says the words so gently, that the teasing behind them doesn’t settle right.

“What have we done, Ness…?” She doesn’t mean to let her voice wobble the way it does, cracking as she says Vanessa’s name. She’s nudged to the side when Charity throws herself up off the bed, stumbling across the room in a hurry to draw in a clean breath of air and sending the bottles on the table crashing to the ground with a loud clatter. Because it’s then, for the first time since first meeting Vanessa, she understands why she’s always felt this underlining fear in her blood for the past six months. “I erm, I need to go.”

She’s petrified of losing Vanessa the way she lost her mum, terrified by the idea that she could turn as cold and as heartless as her dad.

But Vanessa’s quick, hangover and confusion be damned, and she’s blocking Charity’s escape without a second thought. “What are you talking about?”

It’s all happening too quick, falling apart too quick, but Charity’s mind is crumbling away any coherent thought that might help her save this. “We can’t be friends after this, Ness. I can’t go back to that.”

“Charity-”

“I can’t give you more.” Mrs Woodflied had been right.

“Stop. What are you doing?”

“I can’t go back to being just your friend.” Charity makes sure to keep her eyes from landing on Vanessa because she can already feel the confusion and hurt radiating from her body in suffocating waves. She’s not making sense, her words don’t string her thoughts together like she needs them to, mixing with the blind panic that’s throwing her into a frenzy. “I’m sorry, Ness, I ca- this was a mistake.”

The wave of emotion that hits Charity then isn’t hurt or confusion, but anger, and it causes her to stumble a few steps backwards into the vanity, the untouched pizza box crumpling under her weight.

It’s the last thing she remembers with clarity for a long time after that morning, the inconsequential sound of cardboard giving out beneath her hand and the feeling of cold grease against her palm. It’s the last thing she remembers because it’s what she chooses to focus on the days after the fight that unfolds, wrapped in Irene’s arms night after night, the shame and hurt too much to dwell on.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be super short, but apparently I'm no good at keeping the chapter under 5k like I'd planned so you'll all have to deal with another long chapter... and if you're wondering about what song it is that I keep mentioning, its 'I've been loving you too long' by Otis Redding

_My love is growing stronger, as you become a habit to me_

-

“Just pull over here and I’ll jump out.” It’s the last thing she wants, it’s pouring down and the wind is blowing a gale, tossing rubbish and leaves up into the air, but she’s going to miss her train at this rate, and she needs to grab a coffee for the journey if she wants to survive.

Chas scoffs as she takes one last turn down the road towards the train station. “You’ll get soaked. Look, we’re here.” She quips, coming to a stop in one of the parking spots. “You can be so impatient sometimes.”

“Well I wouldn’t have to be if you weren’t so bloody fixated on me going to this conference. You heard him kicking off last night, Chas, I’m exhausted, eh.” Charity snaps, flinging the door open to race around to the boot. She bangs on the window for Chas to unlock it. “Not when it’s you who should be going in the first place.” She calls over the sound of traffic and rain pounding on the roof of the car. She slams the boot closed and comes back around to stop by Chas’ window.

“It’s just two days, find out some stuff about beer and wine, try some, then come home.” Chas says, shrugging. “And please, for the love of god, behave yourself.”

Leaning in to peck a quick kiss to Chas’ cheek she winks teasingly, “can’t make any promises, babe.”

“See you Wednesday.” Charity only just catches the goodbye as she hurries in through the entrance and beelines straight for the café.

The queue isn’t too long but it gives Charity the chance to check her bag for her train ticket and booking forms for the hotel and conference. She shoves the print outs back into her bag carelessly, creasing them in the process. She didn’t want to come to this stupid thing in the first place, but she owes Chas a favour, a few actually, so she convinces herself that she can make the best of a bad situation. She can get drunk for free, that’s a start, and maybe meet-

“Can I take your order?” The woman behind the counter asks, her face set into a frown like it’s not the first time she’s tried to get Charity’s attention.

“Sorry, miles away, can I get a-”

“Large Americano.”

It’s not Charity who speaks, and she’s about to turn on whoever thought they could guess her order – correctly to her own surprise – and hurry the line along, but as she spins to do so she freezes, and then feels her knees go weak.

Blonde hair, blue eyes and an obnoxiously yellow jacket, blinds her for the briefest of moments, the breath catching in her throat painfully, until she can blink away some of the shock. “Vanessa?” Her hand flies out to the counter to steady herself as her eyes bulge out of her skull in disbelief.

“I knew it was you.” Vanessa doesn’t look as surprised as Charity feels, her cheeks are rosy and she’s beaming up at her like it’s only been a couple of hours since they’ve last seen each other and not ten years. “I’ve got this,” she says to the woman behind the counter, relaying her own order and paying for the both of them. “You’re looking well.” She says, and Charity’s heart gives a resounding thud in her chest that echoes through every inch of her body.

She’s not sure how she manages to get her mouth working because her brain clearly isn’t. “My god.” Charity laughs breathlessly, rubbing her forehead as the foggy confusion steadily begins to lift. “So are you.” She does, look well, she’s older, but she makes her thirties look good. Vanessa is as beautiful as ever and it makes her heart ache to think that she’s barely changed while Charity feels completely different in herself, older and wiser but still fragile and definitely terrified of the icy cold that still riddles her veins like a poison. “How’ve you been?” She asks when she accepts her coffee, side stepping to the left and out of the way of queueing customers.

She should probably run, she wants to, because the last time she saw Vanessa had been the morning after her mum’s wedding, screaming at one another on the stairs of her student house while she gathered her dress and heels into a messy pile in her arms. The argument had come the following morning when Charity had realised that it didn’t feel wrong to hold Vanessa like that, to touch her and whisper into her ear while she lost all control and came undone in her arms. But her mum’s words had never left Charity in a hurricane of panic and self-doubt, hovering in the back of her mind and taunting her until she caved to the inevitable.

The memories hit her like a blow to the gut, but they don’t seem to be affecting Vanessa in the same way as she continues to smile up at Charity with a brilliant grin, even as she cups her elbow gently and guides her over to a small table in the corner of the café.

“I’ve been good, yeah.” She says, but her eyes don’t seem to catch the smile on her lips. “Keeping busy.”

“You’re not lying to me, are you, Ness?” The nickname slips effortlessly from her tongue and Charity doesn’t find herself regretting it, allowing herself a moment to feel the contentment that spreads through her body after years of blacking the name from her vocabulary.

A soft laugh escapes Vanessa’s lips and she shakes her head gently. “You always did know me best.” There’s a dig in there somewhere but Vanessa’s words only make the tiredness fade from Charity’s bones, replacing them with warmth. “Lost my job a few weeks ago,” Charity makes a move to apologise but Vanessa holds her hand up with a smile. “It’s okay, wasn’t anything bad, the practice closed. I’m actually off for an interview now.”

“Hey, that’s great.” Charity grins, curling her fingers into a fist in a futile attempt to fight the urge to reach across the table and take Vanessa’s hand in her own. “Anywhere glamorous?”

“Only glamorous because I’m going to a wedding after.” Vanessa laughs softly, taking a sip of her tea. “It’s just a small practice in London.”

Charity gawps unceremoniously. “London?” Vanessa nods. “Today?” She lets out a disbelieving bark of a laugh. “You’re having me on.”

“No… I’m definitely not.” Vanessa says warily, straightening herself up.

“I’m going to London today.” She’s still laughing because this is all so bizarre. All so impossible.

Vanessa’s own laughter melds with her own and when the quiet customers turn to glare, neither of them takes notice. “How? Why?” Vanessa stutters around her flustered resolve.

“Conference.” Charity manages. “A day an’ a half of hell.”

Vanessa’s laughter dies down to a chuckle and she reaches out to take a sip of her tea to calm herself. “Sounds fun.” She says, still laughing softly, “what time’s your train?”

Charity glances down at her watch, remembering then that she’s supposed to be in a rush. “In about five minutes.” She twitches in her seat, making a move to stand but then thinks better of it, she can kill a few minutes, even if it means sprinting to her platform. “You?”

Vanessa shakes her head, eyes rolling playfully. “You stalking me?”

“Give over.”

“Mine too.” She’s playing with the lip of her take away cup when her eyes turn up to meet Charity’s sending her heart racing in the process. “Come on, or we’ll miss it.”

Nodding, she ignores the weak protest somewhere deep in the back of her mind and follows Vanessa without a second thought, out into the busy station.

“So, what’s this conference, then?” Vanessa asks, keeping a moderate amount of distance between them, something Charity’s grateful for. It’s all a bit much, bumping into Vanessa after so long, her brain can’t keep up.

It’s startling to Charity, how effortlessly the conversation grows between them, even after so long, but she doesn’t find herself uncomfortable by the notion that Vanessa can still make everything so easy for her. “Chas wants us to ‘expand our stock’, so she’s sent me on this bloody circus.” Vanessa laughs again, swatting at Charity’s hands when they flash air quotes around her words.

“Your cousin Chas?” Vanessa asks, taking a seat on one of the benches that line the platform. “You made up with your family, then?”

“Yeah, couple years ago, now.” Charity admits carefully. She doesn’t want to tell Vanessa that it was the fall out of their friendship that had pushed her to fill the void that was left behind. Crying to Irene had only done so much to help and eventually, she’d been convinced to reach out, Chas at first, and then the rest of her family had quickly followed like the breaking of a dam. “We own a pub together.”

That makes Vanessa laugh again. “Couldn’t see you doing anything else.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Charity says, nudging Vanessa’s arm with her own teasingly.

“It was meant to be.” Vanessa jumps to reassure Charity quickly. “You always hated the thought of working in an office or something like that.”

She turns her nose up at the very thought and Vanessa rolls her eyes, the corner of her mouth turning up into a smirk. _God_ , she thinks, she’s missed this more than she remembers, more than she remembers feeling in the beginning. It almost hurts, like that void is being reopened, and maybe it would, if Vanessa wasn’t sitting here with her now, smiling like the last words they hadn’t shared had been screamed through anger and tears.

“Who’s getting married then?” Charity kicks out her legs and crosses her feet at her ankles. “Anyone I’ll know?”

“Remember Clive from Uni.” Vanessa says, but Charity shrugs with no clue. “I don’t even want to go, but…”

“Too nice for your own good, you.” Charity quips. “Still in touch with Rhona?” She asks as she stands, the train pulling up to the platform with a metallic rattling sound.

“Yeah we try and get together once a month for a catch up.” Vanessa follows Charity onto to the train. “Which seat you in?”

“Any as long as it’s not reserved.” Charity mutters, looking down at her ticket.

Vanessa sidles into a table seat, the other three chairs empty. “Sit with me?” She asks, looking up at Charity with almost pleading eyes.

How could she say no even if she wanted to?

Nodding, Charity tosses her hold all up onto the rack beside Vanessa’s and slides into the chair opposite. “And Paddy?” She asks, not sure if she should let on that she sees him on a daily basis, now.

A knowing smile tugs at the corner of Vanessa’s lips but she doesn’t look up to meet Charity’s eyes as she speaks. “I see him every now and then, not as much as Rhona but… he did mention the last time I saw him that he lived close to you now.” She pauses and takes in a noticeable breath. “Didn’t seem to want to talk about that much, though.”

That hurts more than it should. But it’s an unspoken rule between them, not to mention Vanessa, both having a shared understanding of the situation, so it would make sense that it would work the other way, as well.

Charity smiles into the top of her coffee, but she can feel that it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Are you going to be busy tomorrow?” Vanessa asks, sensing the stiff lull that’s fallen between them and suspecting that Charity needs an out of the current topic.

She always knows.

“I know you have the conference but,” she says, slipping a piece of hair behind her ear, “do you need to be there all day?”

“Starts at ten, but I’ll probably end up slipping off to get drunk sometime around two.” Charity’s only half joking, and Vanessa knows it.

Laughing, Vanessa nudges the cup to the side so she can extend her hands across the table as though offering up some sort of peace offering. “I was thinking of only sticking around for the service tomorrow,” she starts, “so, how’d you feel about – if you’re already planning on skipping most of this conference, I mean – maybe getting a drink with me?”

“When’s your interview?” Charity asks, needing the moment of distraction to process what Vanessa’s just asked while her mind jumps back to her mum’s wedding and the fall out that they’d had to deal with, the consequences of their actions. She could come up with an excuse, she probably _should_ , because there’s something about letting Vanessa back into her life like this, that scares her to the point where she’s ready to bolt.

Again.

But Vanessa’s here, now, smiling up at her like that’s all water under the bridge. Maybe there’s a possibility that they can be friends now that they’ve grown and matured and the blurred lines that had riddled their friendship the first time around can’t influence their actions.

Maybe, Charity thinks, a little spitefully, she won’t let her own feelings get in the way of something good.

“This afternoon.” Vanessa says, still smiling.

“Okay, you’ve twisted my arm.”

-

The jerk of the carriage as the train comes to an abrupt stop startles Charity into an upright position. She’s been fast asleep for a good half an hour and the drool on her chin turns cold as the air hits her face and she reaches up to hastily wipe it away.

“All those times you teased me for that…” Vanessa trails off, laughing gently when she closes the book that she’s been reading and slips it back into her bag.

It takes Charity a second to regain her senses, eyes flickering around the train before they land on Vanessa. “Shut up.” She mutters, slouching back against her seat and rubbing at her face tiredly. “I’m exhausted.”

“You were never a morning person, were you?” Vanessa’s still teasing her and if it were anyone else, Charity would have bitten their head off by now, but she holds her tongue.

“Add that to a four-year-old throwing a tantrum in the middle of the night…”

“A four-year-old?” Vanessa asks, eyes widening with surprise at the abrupt confession. “You’ve got another kid?”

Charity scoffs, smirking at Vanessa. “Don’t sound so surprised, Ness, I already had two before I was sixteen.”

“That’s not what I meant, Charity.”

It’s the way her name slips so gently from Vanessa’s lips that has Charity’s heckles falling immediately. She sighs and shoots Vanessa the most apologetic look she can muster. “I know, I’m sorry.” Charity manages to utter quietly. “Sorry.”

“Tell me about her… him?”

“Him,” Charity clarrifies, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Noah.”

Vanessa’s smile mirrors her own, bringing all that sunshine and warmth back to Charity, her tired brain catching up to reality again. “That’s a lovely name.” She says, reaching over to press the tips of her fingers against the back of Charity hand. It’s more than comforting, it’s nice and while it reminds her of that void she’s long tried to ignore in her heart, it brings a wave of happiness washing over her.

“Well,” she starts, her voice adopting a familiar light air to it, one she’s used rarely in the past ten years. “You know my family and it’s religious obsessions when it comes to naming their kids.”

Vanessa, laughing as she stands, reaches up to grab her own case, and then Charity’s, handing it over across the table. “It’s not the worst name I’ve heard come out of your family.”

“Thank god I didn’t name him after my dad, eh.”

“Obadiah.” Vanessa scoffs, leading the way through the quiet carriage and out onto the platform. “Kid dodged a bullet.”

The station is packed, and Charity has to close the distance between them both or risk losing Vanessa in the crowd of commuters and tourists, and if she reaches out a few times to hold onto Vanessa, a hand to the small of her back or the jut of her elbow, then Vanessa doesn’t complain.

“He kept you up all night, then?” Vanessa asks when they find a break in foot traffic.

“God, Ness, you’ve no idea.” Charity groans at the memory, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “So, he comes into my room at god knows what time, switches on my light, and you know what I see?” She asks Vanessa with mock hysteria.

Grinning from ear to ear, Vanessa manages to glance over her shoulder at Charity before a man dressed in a suit talking on his phone pushes his way between them, separating them for the briefest moment.

“He’s fully dressed, yeah?” Charity says, voice rising above the sound of the crowds and another train pulling into the station. “Don’t ask me how he managed it, because I struggle to get him to put clean underwear on never mind socks _and_ shoes, as well.” And then she stops, frowning slightly as she gets side tracked. “Where did he even find them?”

Vanessa’s laughing as she tugs at Charity to get her moving again, taking them towards the ticket barriers, slipping through to the other side, but she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t butt in, she’s intent on listening to Charity talk like she needs the gaps of the past ten years filling in and Charity is more than happy to do so.

“So, he’s got himself dressed and I look over at my clock and its half two, yeah?” Charity shakes her head, stepping onto the escalator that’s leading them off the platform. “Well, he only goes and throws the world’s biggest tantrum when I tell him he needs to go back to bed because nursery isn’t open yet. Couldn’t get him to sleep for another two hours and by that point I didn’t even want to attempt taking him back to his own room, so I had to sleep with him in my bed, shoes kicking me all night.”

Vanessa’s laughing hard enough that the man in front of them turns to eye them up curiously before quickly spinning back to face forward when Charity shoots him a glare. “I wonder where he gets that from.” Vanessa teases playfully, wiggling her eyebrows at Charity.

“You know I hated school, never catch me doing that.” She laughs, nudging Vanessa’s hip with her own. “Anyway, you can laugh all you want, babe, but Chas nearly throttled me in the morning.”

“You live with Chas, an’ all?” Vanessa asks when her laughter begins to subside.

Nodding, Charity leads them both over to a map of the underground on the far end of the station entrance.

“Noah’s dad, too?” Vanessa stops beside Charity, trying to make sense of the spider web of trainlines. “Must get crowded.”

“No dad,” Charity mutters, too invested in trying to suss out her own route to notice Vanessa’s head carefully turning to face her. “Well there is one, somewhere, probably, but he’s not in the picture.”

“Oh, sorry.” Vanessa says quickly, turning back to the map.

“Don’t be.” Charity says, smirking as she pivots towards Vanessa. “Wasn’t that good in bed, anyway. Bit too old for me.” He’d been all grunts and groans until the job was done and then Charity had made her break for it, feeling tired and bored and ready for her own bed. But the unspoken truth was, that she’d never found someone who could quite match what Vanessa had been able to give her. Some had come close, close enough to satisfy, but never quite what she needed.

“Got time for a coffee before your interview?” She’s not quite ready to cut this short, whatever it is.

Glancing down to check her watch, Vanessa’s face twists into an apologetic expression. “I wish I could, but I have an hour and I want to check into my hotel and wash up before the interview.”

Charity must hide her disappointment well because Vanessa’s frown turns into a smile. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then? For that drink, yeah?”

“Definitely.” Vanessa gives an excited bounce on the balls of her feet, grinning. “Which hotel are you staying at? I’ll meet you there.”

“The travel lodge by Vauxhall station.” Vanessa’s excitement becomes contagious and Charity begins to feel it seeping into her stomach, an eruption of butterflies starting low in her gut. “Half two okay for you?”

“That’s perfect.”

-

There’s music playing from the TV that she’d left switched on while she’s been in the shower, some song that Debbie always had blasting in her room in the middle of the night, but she doesn’t know the words. Charity sits herself down on the side of the double bed and lets out a tired sigh, reaching up with the towel to dry her hair as she tries to ignore the heavy feeling of dejection weighing down on her chest.

She convinces herself it’s down to the lack of sleep and the fact that she hadn’t been able to escape the conference like she’d hoped to, the tiredness screaming through her bones to curl up into bed and just sleep until it’s time to go home.

But as much as Charity wants to do just that, thoughts of Vanessa are still reeling relentlessly through the forefront of her mind. That stupid smile of hers and blue eyes makes her dizzy and the echoing of Vanessa’s laughter that remains ingrained in her brain, willing her to get up and move and go find Vanessa before she loses her again.

She’s got time, she knows that, but the call she’d received from her hotel that afternoon informing her that Vanessa had left them a message needing to cancel too, seems like torture and while she’s itching to race out into the streets of London, she has no idea where Vanessa is staying. Charity slumps back into the sheets, clutching the towel to her chest and groans, running her other hand across her face.

It’s so easy for Charity, while she’s with Vanessa, to pretend that there’s still a chance for them to rekindle their friendship, stepping over those obstacles was always an easy thing with Vanessa. But Charity’s alone with her thoughts now and there’s nothing to block those feelings from pouring back into that void in her heart, no distractions from recognising them for what they are.

She still has feelings for Vanessa, of course she bloody does, and the admission alone sends the room spinning out of control. It’s stupid for her to even try to convince herself otherwise.

Charity clambers to her feet and rounds on the mini bar in a whirlwind of desperation, not caring about the enormous bill she’s going to have to pay tomorrow morning when she checks out. 

The tiny bottle of vodka hits the spot for about a second, the liquid stinging her throat on the way down, but she’s reaching for the next bottle before she’s finished gulping down the first.

Before she knows it, Charity’s emptied the top shelf of fridge and she’s flicking through the channels on her TV aimlessly searching to fill the emptiness of her room when a quiet knock pulls her out of her thoughts. She doesn’t feel the buzz from the drinks like she usually would and wonders for a brief moment, whether the occupant of the room before her had switched the bottles out for water so they wouldn’t get charged… she’s done it herself on plenty of occasions.

Wrapping the towel tight around her body, she hurries over to the door, worrying that someone’s come to complain about her TV being too loud, but when she presses her cheek up to the cool wood and squints through the eye hole, she freezes for a fraction of a second.

“Vanessa?” She calls, stumbling backwards to fling the door open. “What’re you doing here?” It’s like the previous morning back in the station again, Charity’s heart thudding out a stampede against her ribs while her brain works on overdrive to figure out what’s happening. What’s real and what’s not.

Vanessa’s wind swept, her hair strewn about her face and her cheeks are rosy from the cold outside. “I brought wine,” is all she offers up in response, smiling sheepishly as she waits for Charity to step aside and let her in. It’s when Vanessa’s eyes drop suddenly to the towel wrapped around Charity’s frame and then quickly back up to focus on a point behind her, that she realises how exposed she is.

“Right, yeah, come in.” Charity splutters, ducking her head to hide her blushing cheeks. “I’m just gonna go get changed…” She says, waving her hand blindly in the direction of the bathroom.

“Sorry about just showing up.” She hears Vanessa say as she’s dropping her towel to throw on her old Salvation Army t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Charity calls back, giving herself a quick once over in the mirror. “How’d you know what room I was in?” Her hair’s still damp but it’s falling in waves around her face which doesn’t look too bad, at least it’s not frizzy.

Vanessa clears her throat and sits herself down on the edge of the bed as she twirls the bottle of white wine in her hands. “I told the man at reception I was your wife…” she admits trailing off as she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth. “Forgot me key, didn’t I?”

“Assuming it worked, then?” Charity teases, smirking as she sits herself down beside Vanessa. “Missed me that much, you’ve already wifed me up?”

Vanessa buries her face into her hands, and groans softly. “He wouldn’t have told me otherwise.” The groan turns into a weak laugh when she lifts her head to look at Charity, still worrying her lip between her teeth. “Sorry, I can-”

She’s already standing when Charity reaches out and winds her fingers around Vanessa’s wrist, stopping her from bolting. “What’s up, Ness?”

Vanessa hesitantly sits herself back down and hands Charity the bottle of wine along with the room key that she’d received down at reception. “I’m sorry about cancelling, I felt bad leaving the wedding early… but I still want to get that drink, if you do too?” She explains quietly, purposefully avoiding making eye contact as she speaks. There’s a brief pause where Vanessa pulls in a steadying breath and instinctively reaches out to her side to squeeze her hand. “I missed you.” She admits, still keeping her eyes glued to anything but Charity. “And I needed to tell someone about this interview, forgot my phone charger so I couldn’t call anyone back home, could I.”

“Next best thing, me.” Charity chuckles, trying to keep her tone light to avoid letting an awkward tension settle between them, and purposefully not to draw attention to Vanessa’s admission. She’s not sure how capable she’ll be of keeping her composure if she were to dwell on those words much longer. “So,” Charity stands and points the top of the bottle at Vanessa, “you start talking while I open this and find something for us to watch, yeah?”

“I’m not intruding, or anything am I?” Vanessa asks, but she’s already wiggling her way up the bed to prop herself up on the headboard, heels by the door and blazer draped over the back of the desk chair.

Charity scoffs, peeling off the film on the top of the bottle. “Didn’t have much planned, babe.” She removes the screw top and retrieves two plastic cups from the bathroom filling them half way. “This interview yesterday, you smash it?”

Vanessa crosses her feet at her ankles and smiles up at Charity when she climbs onto the bed beside her. “I think it went well, yeah.”

“Why don’t you sound ecstatic about it then?” Charity asks, turning her nose up at the cheesy romcom that Vanessa’s settled on. “You’re not getting bored of playing Doctor Dolittle are you?” She smirks around a sip of her wine, _good_ wine, she notes as it slips like velvet down her throat, not harsh and acidic like the vodka.

“No,” Vanessa chuckles as she sips at her own drink. “It’s just a bit far from home, isn’t it?”

“Still in Leeds, then?” They’re shoulder to shoulder on the bed and Charity’s damp hair, strewn across her own shoulders, is beginning to soak through her grey shirt and probably Vanessa’s too.

“Moved back in with mum and Geoff for a bit after uni, but they split up a couple months later, so, I got myself a job in Leeds after that.” She says and drains the last of her wine. Charity’s quick to refill it. She’s still so close, only a couple of miles away, and the thought tugs at something old and painful in her chest.

“Well,” Charity props herself up on her elbow and turns to face Vanessa. “You’re an adult now,” she gives Vanessa a light poke to her ribs, grinning when she squeaks and swats at Charity’s hand. “Sure your delight of a mother wouldn’t mind too much if you packed up and moved a few miles down the road, eh.” But then it occurs to her, as the words slip from her lips that it might not just be her mum and whichever man of the month she has on her arm, that’s keeping Vanessa in Leeds. There’s no question as to why, in Charity’s mind, that thought hurts so much, rearing an ugly bout of jealousy up from her gut and lodging itself somewhere in her throat. It’s been ten years for Christ sake, but knowing that Vanessa’s had other people touching her the way Charity has, loving her the way she still does… “I mean, if it’s just you that is.” She shrugs dismissively. “If not then they’ll have to suck it up because you’d be earning a fortune down here.”

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you.” Rolling her eyes playfully, Vanessa shuffles down the bed to mirror Charity’s position, the film on the TV long forgotten along with the wine on the bedside table. “Anyway, I wouldn’t call it a fortune.” She says with a slight smile. “Haven’t even got the job yet.” Vanessa copies Charity, poking at her ribs until the sound of both of their laughter fills the room.

“Ness,” Charity pants through bouts of giggles, “stop or I’m gonna slap you.” She clutches for Vanessa’s wrists, grabbing them loose enough not to hurt but with enough force to push her off. “Think I’m gonna take back that comment about you being an adult, y’know.”

Vanessa flops onto her back, beaming across at Charity with a calculating look in the blue of her eyes, like they’re watching her, waiting for something. “Who wants to grow up anyway.” Charity’s heart stutters in her chest at the sight, and the urge to reach through the space between them and wrap Vanessa in her arms burns through her muscles like fire.

“Who indeed.” Charity lets out a breathy laugh, flipping over onto her other side to snatch up the bottle, a good excuse to distract her from the thoughts that are willing her to ruin this again, to kiss Vanessa and send the both of them falling down that rabbit hole for the second time. “Top up?”

“Please.” Vanessa clears her throat, looking more flustered than she probably should be, and straightens herself up, back propped up against the headboard again.

Somehow, when Charity settles herself, they feel closer, with their shoulders pressed together firmly, right down to their ankles without a breath of air separating them. And as the evening grows later, they forego the cups, drinking straight from the bottle and Charity finds herself focussing intently on the film, instead of the way Vanessa makes her heart race every time she shifts beside her.

“I did, you know, Charity.” Vanessa breaks the silence during a break, startling Charity out of her daze.

“You did what?” She asks, gulping down too much wine and spluttering loudly until she can catch her breath.

“Miss you.” She states it so simply that Charity’s heart stops. “I missed you.”

“Ness-”

“No, I know what I said that day.” Vanessa shakes her head and frowns, looking down at the bottle of wine wedged between them. “I shouldn’t have, I didn’t mean a word, Charity, because I’ve regretted it every day since.”

“I said things, too.” Charity all but whispers, ducking her head to catch Vanessa’s eyes with her own. “But that’s all in the past now.”

“But look how much we’ve missed.”

“People grow apart all the time, babe.” Charity says, shrugging like it’s not killing her a little bit inside that she understands. She busies herself with the remote, flicking through the channels aimlessly, until she finds the one she’d settled on before Vanessa had shown up. “Who’s to say that wouldn’t have been us.” She doesn’t pay attention to the TV after that, though.

Sighing, Vanessa drops her head to Charity’s shoulder and laces their fingers together. “It wouldn’t have been like that, though, would it? Even if we had.”

Charity’s quiet for a moment. She’d thought about that for months after their argument, the what if’s, but dwelling on that now will do neither of them any good. “It’s like what I said, Ness, two people who find each other attractive, who started off as a one-night stand, can never be friends.” She says as matter of fact. “And us starting up the way we did, I think we both know we were doomed from the beginning.”

Vanessa’s hand squeezes her own and a gentle thumb begins to trail back and forth over hers. “What about now?”

“That’s a heavy question, that.” Charity chuckles dryly. “Care to elaborate?”

“Still hard work, you.” Vanessa laughs softly, sitting up and turning back to face Charity, but her grip remains firm, their hands locked together between them. Charity can feel her own pulse pounding like a drum in her fingertips pressed against Vanessa’s skin as she talks. “Do you think we can be friends now?”

“Do you think we’re still doomed?” Charity quips, smirking.

“Fine. Do you still find me attractive?” Vanessa shoots back just as quickly… and that’s what does it, those words setting the wheels into motion. Charity lets her eyes flicker down to her lips, the silent admission that has Vanessa’s free hand coming up to cup the back of her neck, fingers tangling in damp hair. “Charity… I-” Vanessa’s breath ghosts across Charity’s skin and a rush of goose bumps erupt in its wake.

Charity surges forward, crashing their lips together with a desperate hunger that’s been bubbling beneath the surface since the morning before, and if she’s being honest with herself, it’s been bubbling there for the past ten years and six months.

Vanessa’s lips feel like they did the night of her mum’s wedding, soft but determined, intent on drawing a moan from Charity’s lungs. “‘Course I do.” She manages to mumble out between kisses, pressing Vanessa back into the pillows. “Have done since the day a met you.”

Vanessa’s hands fly to the hem of Charity’s shirt, nails digging into the skin of her lower back before she begins hiking up the material to pull it over her head. The break in contact as her shirt slips between them, gives Charity the opportunity to drop her lips to Vanessa’s neck, biting down gently to the pulse point that’s pounding beneath her lips. Vanessa arches beneath her, pressing further into the contact and Charity’s hands immediately shoot to the buttons on her blouse, tugging at them with no concern for whether or not she’s about to tear the fabric to shreds. But even after she’s managed to free the buttons, Charity’s hands don’t still, carrying on down to the clasp at the top of Vanessa’s trousers, flicking it open with a practiced ease.

Neither Charity or Vanessa have any fight in them, a reason or want to stop what they’re doing in that moment because the hot fog of arousal has the rest of the world fading into static, leaving them safe within their bubble. A bubble where words from the past can’t touch them and threaten to tear them apart for the second time.

Charity doesn’t bother to fully remove Vanessa’s clothes before she’s dipping her hand down beneath her underwear, only just managing to hold herself up on her elbow when Vanessa releases a barely contained moan deep into her mouth, pulling her closer.

“Good thing I do too.” Vanessa bites down on Charity’s bottom lip and the last of her restraint crumbles with any pitiful argument either of them has for why this shouldn’t work but why it still feels like it can.

-

Falling asleep with damp hair the night before has left Charity with a bird’s nest of tangles on the back of her head, but she’s exhausted, in the best way possible, and doesn’t have the energy or strength in her arms to try and fix it. She throws her hair up into a messy ponytail and settles down onto the edge of the bed, feeling the stiffness in her spine ease slightly.

“Times your train?” Charity asks, smiling dejectedly at Vanessa, still curled up in the sheets.

Vanessa blinks against the light streaming in through the curtains and whines into her pillow, trying to bury herself further into the warmth of the sheets. “One.” She manages then turns back to Charity with a gentle smile curling the corners of her lips. The sight pulls the breath from Charity’s lungs like a rush of warm relief. “You?”

“In an hour.” Her voice comes out sad and flat despite the way her hearts pounding in her chest like victory song, willing her to forget about her train, ignore the commitments waiting for her at home and just climb back into bed with Vanessa..

Sitting up against the headboard, Vanessa pulls the sheets up to cover her chest and pats the space beside her as her own smile begins to fade. “So,” she starts and Charity’s heart stops when reality begins to crack through their façade. “I suppose us being friends is off the table?”

There’s no malice or spite to her tone as she asks the question because they both know the answer without needing to actually ask, but despite the knowing air to the words, Charity lets out a sad laugh and laces her fingers with Vanessa’s. “Y’know, in another universe or something like that, I think we could be.” She starts, gazing down longingly at the fingers that insultingly feel perfect between her own. “But I care about you more than that to try and fight this, I’d just end up getting myself hurt, or hurting you, again.”

Vanessa lifts Charity’s hand to her mouth to press a barely there kiss to her knuckles. “Why didn’t we ever try being more than that?” She asks, her voice no louder than a whisper.

At that, Charity lets out an amused scoff, tipping her head to the side to lay her temple against Vanessa’s. She can feel the sting of tears in her eyes and a painful lump in her throat that she has to clear before she can even muster up a coherent explanation. “You really think you could handle me?” It’s not enough but joking about something so serious is the only thing keeping Charity from breaking, from laying down her life and readily giving it all up, giving it to Vanessa. “I’m no good in relationships, Ness, never have been.” She says feebly. “Damaged goods, me.”

“No, you’re not.” And there’s so much sincerity in Vanessa then, that Charity doesn’t find herself wanting to fight the tears, letting them flow unreservedly down her cheeks.

“Maybe,” Charity’s voice comes out scratchy and rough, “we could have been friends, maybe we could have been more than that,” she says, carefully untangling herself from Vanessa and moves over to the desk where Vanessa’s clothes are draped neatly over the chair, giving herself the space to catch her breath without her senses being drowned in sunshine and warmth. “just not in this life.” Charity’s smiling despite the pain that’s wrapping itself around her heart like a gripping fist. “Anyway, I don’t like the way you make your tea so we’d never work.”

Vanessa releases a choked sob before she shuffles across the bed, stopping at the edge in front of Charity and holds out her hand. Charity takes it without a second thought and crouches so she’s just a couple of inches beneath her. “I think I’ll love you in all of those lives.”

Charity has to squeeze her eyes shut at the admission because looking up at Vanessa then will have her caving, crumbling into her arms and never letting her go. And she has to convince herself that this is for the best, that this is the only way she can keep Vanessa from hurting the way she is. “You’ve never said that before.” The hand around her heart only grips tighter, squeezing it until Charity’s sure it’s about to give out.

“Neither have you.” Vanessa’s whispers gently, reaching up to cup Charity’s cheeks between her hands, silently willing her to open her eyes. “Doesn’t mean it’s not true, though, does it?” She says when their eyes meet. The blue in her irises is as clear as day, glimmering beneath her own tears as she smiles, brokenly, at Charity.

Charity doesn’t trust herself to speak, she leans in to press her lips against Vanessa’s gently. “I-” Her voice breaks on the single syllable and she rolls her eyes at the sound because she wants to say, ‘I love you, too,’ wants to admit that with all of her heart. “I hope you get this job, Ness.” She says instead, but she doesn’t run like she had last time, doesn’t argue or fight because she’s scared. Instead, she leans in to press a quick kiss to Vanessa’s lip, stroking her thumb tenderly beneath her eye to swipe away a fresh tear before she stands and disappears into the bathroom.

When she comes back out ten minutes later, Vanessa’s gone and the bed’s made, all signs of the other woman have dissipated from the room except for a small slip of hotel paper on the desk.

_It could still be this life x_

Vanessa’s scribbled her phone number beneath her neat handwriting, but Charity can’t find it within herself to even read it. She scrunches the paper in a hard fist and drops it into the bin at her feet without hesitation.

The walk to the tube station is silent, the static in her ears numbing her to the outside world. Charity doesn’t feel her feet hit the ground with each step, or the sting in her lungs when she pulls in freezing breaths of air, she certainly doesn’t notice the tears streaming down her cheeks when she comes to a steady holt a couple of feet away from a busker.

It must be the subconscious recognition of the melody, even through the fog, that has her coming back around from a faraway mist and back to reality to stop and listen. She’s bitterly entertained by the performer’s choice of song, the irony hitting her like a sledge hammer to the back of her head, because of course the song that has always reminded her of Vanessa would be echoing smoothly through the station like her world isn’t crumbling down around her. The memories of dancing with Vanessa at her mother’s wedding flash vivid and brilliant behind her eyes as if she’s watching a film of her life playout before her.

She can’t ignore the regret that immediately floods her chest because for the second time, she’s walked away from Vanessa, broken her own heart needlessly, but she can ignore the busker, ignore the people giving her confused glances as she shoves her way past them and down the steps.

She’s panting heavily, forcing the painful memories away from the forefront of her mind, locking them away in a box somewhere deep and forgotten in a dark corner her head.

Charity stares blindly up at the posters that line the walls of the underground platform. ‘ _Quit smoking’_ she scoffs at the imagine of some sort of tumour on a man’s throat, ‘ _you may be due a claim’_ because that’s what they all say, don’t they? She needs air, it’s stuffy and the smell of oil and dirt is making her head spin faster and faster. But just as she’s about to pivot on her heels and make a break for the steps, another poster catches her eye. It's not like it's any brighter or as eye catching as the others, but she finds herself wanting to look regardless. 

‘ _What if seeing each other again changed everything?’_ It’s one of those second chance posters, she sees them all of the time in Leeds when she goes shopping with Debbie but it’s the first time one of them has made her stop. It tugs at that regret and anger with herself that Charity doesn’t even want to think about anymore, so she turns back to the platform and dives on the first train that stops.

Nothing’s changed.

-

“How’d it go?” Chas turns down the radio to a considerate volume when they pull out of the carpark outside the station, but when Charity doesn’t reply, she lets out a gentle sigh. “Are you still mad I made you go?”

She is, furious, if she lets herself think about it long enough, because this is all Chas’ fault. It wasn’t Charity’s turn to go to the conference, she went to the last two, for Christ sake, but Chas has a way of guilting her into these things, reminding her of the many favours that Charity owes her when it suits her. And yes, maybe that’s a fair point, and maybe Charity could do this one little thing for Chas every now and again because hell, Chas has done so much for her in her life that it’s the least she can do.

And usually she doesn’t care, grunts and moans about not wanting to go, but finds herself enjoying the short break despite herself. This time is different, though, had been the moment Chas had dropped her off on Monday morning and she’d found herself face to face with Vanessa. That’s why Charity’s silently seething in the passenger seat of the car, refusing to make eye contact with Chas or offer up any kind of mature conversation.

Charity feels like she’s taken a plummet off a cliff backwards, falling into that old frame of mind that had swallowed her whole ten years ago.

It’s Chas’ fault because she doesn’t want to admit that she’s to blame, that she’s done this to herself and broken her own heart for a second time.

Broken Vanessa’s, too.

Two days isn’t enough, there’s still so much more Charity wants to ask Vanessa, wants to know how the wedding went, how her life outside of work is going, why she’s single, why she really stayed in Leeds. She wants to tell Vanessa how much she loves her too, how she always has-

The window wipers pull Charity from her thoughts, a welcomed relief from the incoherent noise, deafeningly loud in her ears. “I’m not mad, just tired.” Charity mutters, eyes glazed over while she stares out of the window feeling more lost than she has done in a long time.

“Noah can’t wait to see you; he’s built a fort in the living room. Blankets, cushions, the lot.” Chas says carefully. “We’ll be home just in time for his afternoon nap.”

Charity traces the tips of her fingers over her lips, beginning to lose herself in a daydream once again. “Think I could do with one of those.” The tingling memory of Vanessa has slowly faded away from her body, leaving her mouth feeling cold and her lips chapped, instead.

If Chas realises there’s something wrong, something deeper than Charity’s willing to let on, she doesn’t push. “Well the pair of you can curl up in that monstrosity he’s built,” she teases softly, dropping her hand to Charity’s thigh to squeeze reassuringly. “Might make you feel better.”

“Yeah,” Charity finally turns to Chas, dropping her hand to hers. “Maybe.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry bout the ending folks, with it being a Four Weddings and a Funeral AU... y'know, it's kind of necessary. Hope the length of the chapter makes up for it though.

_I've been loving you too long to stop now_

-

The Woolpack’s predictably quiet that lunch time, the majority of the villagers off getting ready for the wedding. But Charity, despite being the maid of honour, is busying herself behind the bar, preparing the shelves and making sure they have the stock ready for that evening while they’re away at the reception.

Marlon’s busy preparing the food to take with them, so she stays well clear of the kitchen, but there’s so much that still needs to be done in so little time that she’s beginning to wonder if she’s going to have to rock up to the church in her pyjamas.

Chas is ready, has been since seven that morning, waking Charity up at the crack of dawn to help her with her hair. She knows she should have taken the opportunity then to get herself ready, too, but there’s something miserable and thick, seeping through her veins even as she busies herself straightening out the pint glasses behind the bar. It’s not that she’s not pleased for Chas, because she is, beyond words could even begin to describe, but it’s a selfish thing that the happiest day of her cousin’s life is just another reminder that Charity can’t seem to find love, or when she does, she can’t find the courage to keep it.

These days, Charity often finds herself playing the role of spectator to other people’s happiness.

The edges of her mouth turn down into a grimace while she’s checking the ice machines under the bar. She gets like this sometimes, more so when she finds others around her enjoying their own happiness. It makes her feel like she’s missing out on something, an inside joke that she’s not privy to. And maybe she is, maybe it’s one of those things only people who are happily and sickly in love with someone can understand.

That thick feeling in her throat that rises every now and then, sickly like tar, has nothing to do with her smoking habits, she’d given that up a few years back now, but has more to do with the regret boiling up in her mind than anything physically impairing. It was the right thing to have done, she knows that now, to walk away from Vanessa that day in the hotel in London, but that’s not to say she doesn’t hate the decision all together.

She could never have been friends with Vanessa back then, it just wouldn’t have worked, and to even play with the idea that they could have been more, even for the briefest of moments as they had done in that hotel room, would have been worse. She’s thankful for the way it ended then, however, amicable with a shared understanding.

Her past had weighed her down for far too many years, being pregnant with Debbie had turned her family against her, Ryan’s conception had broken her in more ways than she thought could ever be possible, but it had been Irene and Vanessa who’d helped her pick up the pieces. But that’s just it, Charity thinks as she stares blankly across the empty pub, Irene had adopted her, had been obliged by a contract to help her – she knows it’s more than that, really, but it helps to settle the anxiety in her gut to think of it that way – but Vanessa had chosen to be there for Charity and that only aided the guilt to bubble up to boiling point.

Charity isn’t easy to love, but Vanessa had tried, even when Charity had pushed her away, time and time again. But how could she let Vanessa carry her pain when Charity could barely carry herself. Mrs Woodfield could see it, way back when they were just a pair of stupid kids, but for some reason, it had taken Charity a long time, too long, to recognise the route of her fear of committing to Vanessa, of giving her everything she’d wanted to, to see that Vanessa had wanted that, too.

Charity had needed time, and while twenty years had passed, issues dealt with… come to terms with at least, Charity is left feeling just as lonely now as she had done while juggling hopelessly between pining after Vanessa and pushing her away. It doesn’t make sense to her, she doesn’t want to make sense of it, because she knows it’s down to her, her fault, like it always is, like Noah and Debbie like to point out any time she gets close to someone only to turn them away at the last moment.

They’re not Vanessa, she tells herself when she’s alone again in her room, happy to be shot of whoever had shared her space the night before.

It always comes down to Vanessa.

“Charity…” She’s startled out of her daydream by Paddy bumbling into the bar from the back room. “I was wondering if I could have a word?” He asks, stuttering as he nudges his glasses up the bridge of his nose and then drops his hand to fiddle with the red tie around his neck.

“Not now, Paddy,” She hands him one of the glasses and shuffles around him. “Could you finish up in here? I’ve got to get sorted or Chas is gonna wring my neck.”

“But we-”

“As much as I just _love_ hearing you rambling on, Padster,” Charity murmurs with a sickly sweet air of sarcasm, “I am a very busy woman, and your wife to be has me running in circles so,” she sighs heavily and storms through to the back room, “just go find yourself something to occupy your time with, yeah?”

He doesn’t follow her after that and she makes her way up the stairs, two at a time, to finish up her makeup and change into her dress. She manages it in record time, the light eyeshadow matching the beaded lace on her dress. She still needs to finish off her hair but the sound of Chas fussing next door is distracting her to the point that Charity huffs, ignoring the ticking clock on the wall above her bed, and stomps out of her room.

“What you panicking about now?” She snaps, swinging open the bedroom door. “We’re going to be late.”

“I can’t do up this bloody strap.” Chas says, peering up through her hair to meet Charity’s eyes as she tugs at the strap on her heel, trying to shove the flowing skirt of her wedding dress out of the way.

Charity softens at the sight, her shoulders dropping, and she lets out a breathy laugh. “I’ll help if you do my hair.”

“Deal.” Chas almost sobs out her relief, checking her watch and wincing.

Still laughing, Charity hikes up her own dress so she can get down on one knee and fix the tiny buckle. “You’ve no reason to be nervous, babe.” She says when Chas reaches down to steady herself on Charity’s shoulder, hand shaking slightly. “Made for each other, you two.”

“I know.” Chas says without an air of doubt to her tone. “I’m not worried about that, just stressed.”

“About what? Everything’s sorted.” She gives Chas’ ankle a light tap to let her know she’s done and climbs to her feet with a grunt.

Chas sighs and follows Charity over to her vanity, getting her to sit down in the chair. “How’d you want it?”

“Don’t care.” Charity says into the mirror. “Come on, what you stressing about?”

Chas is already clipping pieces of Charity’s hair back when she answers. “Just this whole day, it’s bigger than we originally planned, and I feel like I’ve let it get away from me a little bit.” She says, tugging a bit too hard on a persistent strand of hair and Charity flinches. “Sorry.”

“Is that a bad thing?” She asks, playing with one of the makeup brushes sat in front of her, something to keep her hands busy.

“Yes, well, no, not really.” Chas lets out a frustrated sigh. “I would have been happy having it here, just close family and friends.” Then she falls quiet for a second and Charity understands, watching Chas’ eyes grow sad and far away in the mirror. “She would have been a little flower girl,” she whispers quietly, “we could have had one of those little white carts and Moses could have pulled her down the aisle in it.” Charity reaches up to her shoulder where Chas has dropped her hand, staring off distantly into the mirror. “I kept seeing those little dresses in the shops we looked in for mine, had little pink bows and stuff on them.”

“Hey, hey.” She says quickly, ignoring the way her heart feels tight in her chest and stands, pulling a tissue out of her bag. “You’re going to ruin that makeup.” Charity wipes carefully beneath Chas’ eyes before the tears can leave tracks down her cheeks.

“Think she would have enjoyed today, all the bloody colours Paddy’s picked for the reception…” Trailing off around a wet laugh, Chas reaches out for Charity’s hand and gives it a barely there squeeze.

“Look.” Charity starts. “Today is going to be amazing, it doesn’t matter where you have it or how big or small it is, it’s about you and Paddy, okay? And baby Gracie. She’ll be looking down on this whole day, knowing how much her mummy and daddy love her.”

“This break up has gotten you all soppy, hasn’t it?” Chas teases, smile still not quite losing its sad lilt, slapping at Charity’s shoulder with a smirk, needing to close of the rest of the conversation before it gets any deeper and the pair of them lose themselves to their emotions.

“Would you two hurry up, the car’s been waiting for ‘alf an hour, eh!” Liv screams from the bottom of the stairs, sounding just as flustered and stressed as both Charity and Chas probably feel put together.

“Wouldn’t call it a break up, babe. Barely even had two dates.” Charity scoffs with a roll of her eyes, dragging Chas from her room and leading the way down the stairs.

“Three months,” Chas wanders into the kitchen where Debbie and Liv are hovering by the table in matching dresses to Charity’s, fussing over a box of flowers. “Longest relationship you’ve had.”

“Well,” She shrugs, “maybe relationships just aren’t my thing, then.”

“Give over, mother.” Debbie stands and hands her one of the bouquets, white and gold lilies. “Even you can’t be that shallow. Miserable, maybe, but not shallow.”

“When you find someone that you care for and actually _love_ , like I do with my Paddy, maybe you won’t be so miserable all the time, eh?” Chas teases, but Charity’s stopped from firing bark a snide remark when Liv hurries the three of them towards the back door. “Hopefully you’ll meet someone nice today.” Chas adds with deliberately smug tone as she clambers into the car and it immediately sets Charity on edge.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Charity rounds on Chas with a raised eyebrow but she doesn’t manage to get an answer out of her before Liv is dragging her into the back of the wedding car and Debbie starts up a round of ‘ _I’m getting married in the morning_.'

-

Charity has to bite her tongue when Cain fails to straighten his tie for the second time after tying it and untying it, huffing out one of his indignant grunts as he yanks at the knot again. “Why’d you ‘ave to be so late.” He mutters to himself and she’s thankful for the hot sun beaming down on them, it’s the only thing that’s keeping her from barging into the church and screaming at Harriet to get a move on. It’s warm and peaceful outside, a light breeze keeping them content, otherwise she’d have grabbed Cain by the back of his head, shoved him through the doors to get this wedding going herself.

Five minutes later, she hears the organ start up and the doors to the church open. Liv and Aaron are the first to walk in together, the guests standing and turn to face them as they do so. Bear follows behind with Debbie who looks less than pleased when his arm drops from where it had been linked between them to slide down her back with no intensions of stopping. Both Charity and Cain laugh when Debbie slaps it away with a barely whispered warning to keep his hands to himself.

“Gets tha’ from you.” Cain mutters halfway down the aisle.

“Don’t get any ideas ‘cause you know you’ll lose more than your hand.” She says, smiling when they reach Paddy at the front. He gives her arm a gentle squeeze before he goes to stand behind Paddy and Charity joins Debbie and Liv, their eyes glued to the doors fixedly.

“She looks beautiful.” Liv whispers to Charity, grinning wide and both Debbie and Charity find the expression contagious because Chas does look just that and more. Her eyes follow Chas and Zak as they make their way down the aisle, the guests beaming at the pair as they pass and the sight fills her heart with pride and so much love that her spiteful thoughts from earlier sizzle out to the back of her mind like they’d never existed.

Charity’s eyes wander from Chas for a moment, searching out her kids amongst the guests. Ryan and Noah are sat two rows back beside Irene with Moses stripping off his jacket that had taken Charity a good half an hour to get him into that morning, and they smile up at her, Noah giving her a small wave.

She’s about to shoot him a wave back when her hand freezes by her hip, her whole body following as she turns to petrified stone. Charity has to do a double take because she could swear that sat right behind her kids, in the third row with matching smiles and blending in with the guests around them, are Rhona and Vanessa. Her hand flies out to steady herself on Debbie’s arm, her knees suddenly finding the rest of her body too heavy to hold.

“What’s wrong?” Vanessa’s staring right at her, eyes softening when their eyes meet across the church and Charity feels her heart give out a heavy thud against her ribs, painful and exhilarating at the same time.

“Nothing.” Charity manages to croak through a whispered breath and as much as she tries to fight it, she can’t bring herself to tear her eyes away from Vanessa’s. She looks beautiful, she always does, nearly eleven years older and Vanessa still makes her forties look good. God, she thinks, _again_ , and she feels a tense coil unwinding in the base of her back that she hadn’t realised had been there to begin with.

_‘Hello.’_ Vanessa doesn’t speak the greeting aloud, her lips moving around the word instead, but Charity hears it in her head, as clear as day, how could she ever forget the sound of Vanessa’s voice. It’s as though she feels the breath washing over her, the warmth spreading through her chest.

_‘Hi.’_ She mouths back, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. She follows it with a wink that makes Vanessa chuckle, hiding it behind a cough into her fist. The sight alone makes Charity feel like she’s floating, the rest of the room falling away into nothing and she readies herself for the comprehension to set in, that Vanessa is actually here, only a couple of feet away.

She’s wearing a light blue dress with a white blazer, hair up and swinging down her shoulder in a braid with dark eyeshadow that makes her eyes pop, the blue of her irises yanking the air straight from Charity’s lungs. ‘ _How’re you_?’ Vanessa’s transfixing, and it makes her wonder how she could ever have let her walk out of that hotel room ten years ago, how she could have let herself miss so much by not fighting.

‘ _Good, you_?’ Charity’s been staring for a while too long and it’s not until Vanessa’s laughing softly, the sound carrying and making her knees wobble precariously again, that she realises Harriet, and the rest of the church, are glaring at her impatiently. “Sorry, miles away, what?”

The gentle sound of Vanessa laughing again draws Charity’s attention away from Chas and Paddy until Debbie gives her a sharp jab to her ribs. “The rings.” She hisses through gritted teeth.

“Oh!” Charity jumps, fumbling with her bag. “Yes, I’ve got it.” She says, rummaging through it before she pulls out her lip stick and frowns. “Somewhere.” A flustered mess, that’s what Vanessa’s reduced her to. “Found it!” The whole church jumps in unison, their bodies moving like a Mexican wave when Charity proclaims her minor victory with too much vigour. “Here.” She clears her throat, handing Chas the ring before she backs away to her spot beside Debbie and Liv. “Carry on.”

“You sure you’re good for us to continue?” Chas asks with a raised eyebrow.

Charity waves her off with a smile but doesn’t turn back to lock eyes with Vanessa again, she can’t, she doesn’t trust herself not to throw herself across the pews just to be able to reach out and touch her. Instead of doing just that, she winds her arm through Debbie’s and settles on focussing on the rest of the vows and if a tear manages to escape her eye, she puts it down to the old dusty church flaring up her hay fever.

She wants to hang back after the formal photos have been taking, but between switching in and out of the shots and then the cars pulling up to take the wedding party off to the fancy hotel in Hotten, Charity doesn’t get the chance to find Vanessa in the mass of relatives and friends.

She hopes then, as they stand in a line just outside the doors to the reception room, that she’ll catch her while greeting the rest of the guests, but Vanessa doesn’t pass.

“Rhona.” Charity gives the last person she wants to see right now, a tight-lipped smile. “Long time no see, eh. Shouldn’t be surprised that Padster invited his old pals.”

“How’re you, Charity?” She asks, surprising Charity as she leans in for a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. “Got a bit flustered up there before, surprised to see our Ness?” She’s about to answer with a snide comment but Rhona cuts her off quickly. “Only it’s not as long for you an’ her like it is us, right?” She says knowingly as though she’s not really talking to Charity at all but reading from notes she’s made in her head prior to their conversation as a way of her pushing her buttons. “Yeah, she told me all about London.” It works.

But Rhona’s smiling as she speaks, not the type of smile she used to give Charity way back when she was in university, this one seems genuine and it makes Charity falter for a moment, unused to being on the receiving end of any of Rhona’s kindness.

“Third times a charm, an’ all.” Rhona says, leaning in to give Charity another hug before she’s working her way down the line, leaving her stumped into uncharacteristic silence.

-

Charity’s not embarrassed to admit that she spends the majority of the dinner searching the tables in front of her for any signs of Vanessa. It’s halfway through Marlon’s speech that she spots a head of blonde hair towards the back of the room, seated between Rhona and another woman. What she doesn’t expect, however, is the toddler sitting in Vanessa’s lap. There’s something so familiar about his features, something uncharacteristically Vanessa that there’s no doubt in her mind that he’s her son.

She tries to ignore the way her heart sinks into the pit of her stomach, leaving her feeling queasy. Of course, Vanessa would have moved on by now, it’s been ten years since their run in in London and twenty since her mum’s wedding. Christ, Charity’s had two kids in that time. It would be a bit hypocritical of her to get wound up over the fact that Vanessa’s found herself a family of her own, but she finds herself doing it anyway, and for the rest of the speeches and the meal, she silently seethes until the ridiculous sixties band that Paddy has chosen begins playing up at the front of the room.

Charity yanks the hip flask from her purse, gulping down the straight vodka until it’s empty, and leaves it abandoned on the table when Moses comes running over to her, tugging at the hem of her dress to come dance with the rest of the guests.

She can’t say no because he’s already wiggling his little body out of time to the Beach Boys, so she hoists him up onto her hip, laughing along when he begins to giggle and squeal and she takes his left hand in her right and dips them low with the music. “Like this song, kid?” She asks.

“Good sounds.” He shouts a little too loud over the music, but it only makes her laugh more, drawing her mind away from Vanessa and her new family for a few peaceful moments while she holds him close, revelling in the feeling of him gripping on tightly at her shoulders, depending on her for a little bit longer. She likes this, being needed, wanted, because her other kids have all grown up too quickly. Independent and no need for her fussing and worrying, though that doesn’t stop her, it’s still nice to have Moses clinging on tightly. “Can we spin, mummy?”

“Like this?” Charity asks, turning slowly in the spot.

“No.” Moses moans, rolling his eyes just like she does. “Really fast.”

“Oh,” Charity nods her understanding, “tell me if you want to slow down.” He doesn’t, and in the end, she has to stop herself before she goes spiralling to the ground, just in time for Irene to make her way over to them both.

“I love a good wedding.” She says, placing a hand on the small of Charity’s back. She can feel the next words before Irene has even spoken them and Charity turns away to hide the flicker of annoyance on her face. “Vanessa’s here.”

“Is she?” Charity breathes evenly through her nose. “Hadn’t noticed.”

“So that little show during the vows wasn’t the pair of you having a catch up, was it?” Irene says knowingly, but she doesn’t push Charity any more than that, reaching out for Moses instead.

“Was just saying hello.” Charity mutters, looking down at her heels, nudging to the tip of her toe into the edge of the carpet where it meets the hardwood of the dance floor. “Been a while, init.” 

“We had a good chat earlier.” Irene begins fussing over Moses’ shirt, straighten out his collar. “Think she’s over at the bar now, if you want to go see her?” And with that, she picks Moses up and wanders off to where Ryan and Noah are sat on their phones, blatantly ignoring Lydia and Sam at the head table.

However, just as Charity makes to move towards the side of the hall to where she knows the bar sits, feet acting of their own accord, Chas cuts her off.

While slightly dismayed by the interruption, it’s for the best, she thinks, she probably wouldn’t be able to find Vanessa amongst the swarm of Dingle’s even if she tried, and lets Chas sit her down at an empty table. “What was that today?” There’s more amusement lacing her words than annoyance and Charity’s thankful that Chas has managed to find the whole situation funny and not as some childish plot on Charity’s part to ruin her wedding day.

“Sorry.” Charity says, “polite to say hello, right?”

“In the middle of the vows, Charity?” Chas laughs a little disbelievingly.

Charity shrugs. “Seemed like a good time.” She teases, draping an arm around Chas’ shoulders as they stare out across the sea of family and friends.

“Was that her?” Chas drops her voice ever so slightly so that only Charity can hear her over the band. “Paddy’s talked about her, but I’ve never actually met the woman before. Vanessa, right?” Charity wants to be angry at that, knowing that Chas and Paddy have been discussing her love life behind her back, but she spots the woman in question then, three drinks clasped precariously between her hands, stopping to chat to someone Charity doesn’t recognise. The sight makes the butterflies start up in her stomach again, a sort of nervous excitement that she can’t seem to control when Vanessa’s close by.

“How much do you know?” Charity asks, tugging her lower lip between her teeth, feeling the fight drain from her before it’s even reached the surface.

“Just bits. Manged to put some dots together, like after London…” Chas trails off quietly, but the squeeze around her hip tells her there’s more to it. “You want to fill me in?” She’s giving her the chance to feed Chas her side of the story and not just the gossip she’s heard from her husband.

“She was the love of my life.” Charity states as a matter of fact, _still is,_ she wants to add when her voice turning wistful as her eyes trail after Vanessa’s retreating form regretfully, disappearing amongst the guests who are already beginning to show, loudly and embarrassingly, the effects of their day drinking. It’s Faith who brings Charity back to reality, however, before she can elaborate on the subject further, looking slightly worse for wear, with her hair tussled and lipstick smeared across her mouth, Eric no doubt in a matching state somewhere else in the room. She sloshes her drink around precariously while she starts up a conversation with Chas, but Charity pays her little attention.

It’s a while before she finds Vanessa again, the other woman perched at the bar alone while the rest of the guests are beginning to fill the dance floor during the upbeat songs. “Still as beautiful as ever, I see.”

Vanessa’s smiling with startling clarity before she turns to even face Charity and it makes her heart skip a little bit against her ribs, knowing she can do that to Vanessa, make her light up that way before she’s even laid eyes on her. “Still causing trouble at weddings, I see.” Vanessa teases, sliding Charity a second glass of wine that she hadn’t spotted waiting for her.

“Thanks.” Charity takes a sip and laughs gently. “Recognise this?” She asks, her eyebrow rising curiously in question.

“It’s the wine I brought to your hotel room.” Vanessa smiles knowingly into her own glass. “How very sentimental of you.”

“Not really.” Charity shrugs but she gives Vanessa’s arm a teasing nudge with her own that says otherwise. “It’s good stuff.”

“London’s finest, apparently.” That gets them both chuckling gently into their drinks until Vanessa’s face softens into something peaceful and she turns to meet Charity’s eyes with her own. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Well,” Charity starts, smirking. “I don’t think I need to tell you how glad I am to see you; whole bloody church saw that.” She rolls her eyes but her mouth splits into a grin when Vanessa laughs again but doesn’t make a move to say anything else. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you.”

Vanessa’s smile doesn’t falter as she leans gently into Charity’s side. “If I’m honest,” she says, “I didn’t really expect you to. Forget to or did you just toss it in the bin?”

Even though Vanessa’s only teasing her, Charity feels a hot wave of embarrassment and shame wash over and she looks down at their feet. Vanessa’s painted her toes to match her outfit.

“I’m glad, y’know?” At the confession, Charity looks up, confused. “Things would probably be a hell of a lot different now if you had.”

And while Charity has to agree with Vanessa, she can’t deny the bout of sadness that rises up her throat. She gives a short nod. “You’ve got a kid of your own now.” She states as a matter of fact. “Has your scrunchy nose.” Charity points at her own nose, doing her best to mimic the way Vanessa’s nose turns up when she’s frustrated.

“Johnny.” Vanessa says, swirling her wine around the inside her glass. “Looks about the same age as your youngest.”

Charity snorts out a sarcastic laugh. “Sprouting out of me, aren’t they?” She says. “That one’s Moses, and yes, I know about the name before you start on at me.”

Vanessa holds her hands up in a mock defensive motion, smirking. “He Cain’s or…” She trails off when Charity turns to face her with wide eyes.

“God, no.” Scoffing, Charity climbs up onto the bar stool beside Vanessa. “Wouldn’t go anywhere near him again even if I was pumped full of vodka and we were the last people on earth.”

“Sorry,” Vanessa’s still leaning into her side. “I just saw the two of you in the church and assumed.”

Charity doesn’t have anything to respond to that with, after everything, she could never see herself with Cain again, maybe one time around, somewhere between the first and the last time with Vanessa, but not now. “What about you, Johnny’s other mum here?” Thinking back to the blonde woman who’d been sat with her during the meal. Vanessa’s smile turns sad and Charity immediately regret’s asking. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to overst-”

“No, you didn’t…” Vanessa quickly cuts in, shaking her head hurriedly. “He doesn’t have another mum. It’s just me.” She explains and Charity fails to hide the sympathy from dipping her eyebrows into a frown. “There was a bloke a few years back.”

“ _Vanessa_!” Charity gasps playfully, holding her hand to her chest in a way she hopes will lift the mood slightly. “Did you sleep with a _man_?” She whispers the word like a curse, and it does the job, bringing Vanessa’s smile back to her lips.

“I was drunk, okay?” She takes a long gulp from her wine, draining the glass. “Very, very drunk.” Vanessa almost sounds as though it physically hurts her to say the words aloud.

“Hey,” Charity does the same with her own drink and flags down the bar tender for a refill. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me, I’ve got four of them, remember.” Vanessa chuckles softly, and drops her forehead to Charity’s shoulder, the pair falling easily and comfortable, back into their old selves. “Speaking of, I’m pretty sure there’s two not so little kids of mine, who would be absolutely thrilled to see you again.” Charity says, already moving off her stool. “If you fancy it?”

Vanessa’s face lights up that same way that it always used to when Charity brought her back to Irene’s with her for dinner, when a younger Debbie and Ryan would race over to her before she’d barely stepped in through the front door, or when they’d beg her to play with them in the living room. Charity has to physically stop herself from skipping over to the table where Irene is fussing over all four of her kids, but she does drag Vanessa behind her, their hands tangling together without her even realising.

“Look who I found…” She sing songs, blaming it on the wine as she internally cringes at the sound of her own voice, high pitched and _sweet_. But it does the job, Ryan and Debbie looking up with equally confused expressions before their jaws go slack.

“Oh my god.”

“Vanessa!”

“You’re both adults.”

The three of them speak as one, their words jumbling into a mess of noise and both Irene and Noah scoff at the sight. But Debbie and Ryan climb to their feet, ignoring their retorts, and rush over to Vanessa, and it occurs to Charity then, as her kids gush over her just like no time had passed at all, that it has been years since she’s seen Debbie let herself go this way, softening in Vanessa’s arms like she used to when she was a kid. It makes Charity’s heart melt a little bit in her chest.

“You look great, Ness.” Ryan says as he wraps Vanessa up in his arms, she catches her eye over his shoulder and the smile on Vanessa’s face has Charity’s knees going week for the second time that day.

“Look at the pair of you.” Vanessa says as she holds Debbie and Ryan at arm’s length, giving them both a once over. “I can’t believe how grown up you both are.”

“Well it has been twenty years.” Debbie smirks wrapping Vanessa in another hug, “All grown up, now.” But her eyes are scanning the room as she speaks, settling on something on the far end of the reception hall. Charity follows her line of sight curiously, finding Sarah hovering by the bar. “Sorry, I’ve gotta stop my daughter from stealing anymore wine.” She manages to rush out before she’s shuffling past Vanessa and hurrying over to the bar.

“Daughter?” Vanessa gapes, turning to Charity with wide eyes.

“And a son,” Charity explains, leading Vanessa to the edge of the dance floor when the band announce that it’s time for the newly married couple’s first dance. “Sarah and Jack.”

Vanessa can only stare for a few silent seconds before her brain catches up to her. “You’re a grandma?” She lowers her voice so she can’t be heard by the rest of the gathering guests over of the slow song that the band is beginning to play.

“God, don’t say it like that.” Charity laughs and buries her face into her hand, but she does it more to keep her eyes from giving away she suddenly feels like she’s floating in thin air. “I already feel old.”

“I’m really happy for you Charity.” Vanessa whispers gently, tugging on Charity’s wrist to pull her hand away from her blushing face. And when their eyes meet, she doesn’t feel the need to turn to face Chas and Paddy, to be an onlooker to someone else’s love life.

“Thank you.” Charity says, reaching down through the space between them to lace their fingers together, finding herself, for the first time while being with Vanessa, not hearing the little voice in the back of her head warning her away, telling herself that she isn’t good enough for her. She doesn’t feel the spite, thick like tar in her throat, that had been riddling its way through her body that morning, and when Vanessa gently tugs at her hand to lead her onto the dance floor when the song changes to a song that they both recognise with a smug realisation, Charity doesn’t regret her decision ten years ago not to call Vanessa. She’s in a good place now, they both are if the brilliant smile on Vanessa’s face is anything to go by. Charity places her hands carefully on Vanessa’s hips and pulls her close. “You still in London then?”

Vanessa ducks her head at that, winding her arms around Charity’s shoulders and drops her forehead against her shoulder. “I turned down the job.” She whispers into the crook of her neck.

“Why’s that?” Charity was never good at hiding how she feels when it comes to Vanessa, it’s probably why she laughs when Charity’s surprised curiosity seeps through her voice.

“Changed my mind I suppose.” Vanessa mumbles, tightening her grip on Charity as they sway in time with the other couples on the dance floor to the song that seems to be tied to them, refusing to let them go as a constant reminder of what will always sit between them. “Remember when we danced to this at my mum’s wedding? Beginning to think it’s following us.” Charity doesn’t dwell on the sudden change in topic, feeling like there’s something more behind her words that Vanessa isn’t quite ready to discuss just yet.

“Thought Geoff was about to have a stroke, babe.” Charity laughs quietly. “’Specially when you went in for a kiss.”

Vanessa gasps, laughing as she swats at Charity’s arm. “I did not.”

“You definitely did.” Charity says, turning to catch Vanessa’s eyes. “Feels like a life time ago now.” She finds herself muttering to herself, stomach alive with a rush of butterflies when Vanessa’s eyes drop to her lips for a brief moment, it’s quick, almost unnoticeable, but her eyes come back up to meet Charity’s and there’s something familiar dancing in the blue of her irises.

“Another life.” Vanessa sighs like she’s trying to remind herself of the boundaries they set, the rules that draw solid lines between them, and the tips of her fingers press delicately to the nape of Charity’s neck.

“This life, Ness.” Charity closes her eyes and drops her forehead softly to Vanessa’s, referring back to a shared memory from nearly eleven years ago, a hotel room, an empty bottle of wine, and a crumpled piece of paper with a scribbled note, feeling the warm breath ghost across her lips. “I want this life.”

“Charity…” Vanessa’s voice wobbles as she sighs out her name and Charity has to gulp around the lump in her throat.

“This life and every other life.” She pushes on, feeling a surge within her ribcage to finally tell Vanessa what she needs to hear. But just as she’s about to confess, get down on her knees and beg Vanessa to forgive her for everything, the song comes to an end, concluding whatever moment they’d found themselves lost in.

Charity doesn’t realise she’s crying until she blinks against the sting in her eyes and feels hot tracks run down her cheeks. Vanessa wordlessly reaches up with her hands and wipes away the tears gently, smiling almost sadly at Charity.

“Fancy coming to meet my lot now?” She asks once Charity’s managed to compose herself and laces their fingers together. She nods, willing reality to fall back into step with the racing of her mind. Vanessa’s already leading them both through the guests until they come to a stop at her table.

Rhona and the blonde woman are talking between themselves, the little boy she now knows to be Johnny is sat between them.

“You remember Rhona, right?” It takes Charity a second for her to even manage a nod, but she musters up a smile.

“We had a catch up before.” She says, keeping the smile on her lips even as Rhona scoffs.

“Behave you two.” Vanessa teases because even if they have matured, Charity still finds her annoying as hell. “And this is my sister, Tracy.”

“What?” Charity asks dumbly, turning to Vanessa with a blank expression. She’s been doing a lot of this lately, the day dreaming, because she could swear hands down, that Vanessa’s introducing her to her sister. “I must have missed that, your what now?”

Chuckling, Vanessa holds out her free hand to take Tracy’s. “My sister.” Something must have slipped out of place in her brain because Charity knows that Vanessa is an only child, she’s known that fact for twenty years. When it becomes clear to Vanessa that Charity needs an explanation, her brow furrowing in complete confusion, she gives Charity’s hand a squeeze. “On my dad’s side, we found out about two years ago.”

“I knew it!” Charity proclaims with far too much enthusiasm than the situation warrants but she continues on. “I always said, didn’t I, Ness, that there’d be a whole gaggle of his kids running around somewhere.” Tracy laughs at this, but Vanessa can only roll her eyes, fighting to keep her smile tamed. “Bet you’re like the Von Trapp’s… is there anymore of you?”

“Give over.” Vanessa breaks under the teasing seriousness of Charity’s tone, shoving her away before she pulls her back into her side. “Just us, as far as we know anyway.”

“Keep an eye out for gorgeous blonde’s, Rhona.” Charity says warningly, pointing a stern finger in her direction.

“Are you flirting with my sister?” Vanessa gasps.

“‘Course not, babe.” Charity holds her hands up in defence, smirking as she speaks. “You know I’ve only ever had eyes for you.” She says flippantly, but Vanessa blushes at her words, ducking her head to hide it from Rhona and Tracy.

“Get a room you two.” Tracy pipes up a second later. “Rotting my teeth over here.”

“I don’t want to go to bed.” Johnny whines loudly, his bottom lip beginning to wobble at the apparent threat of an early bedtime. “I want to stay at the party.”

“Not you, love.” Tracy says, handing Johnny his sippy cup but he clambers out of his seat and stomps over to Vanessa, staring up around her hip at Charity.

“Mummy.” He whispers into her dress. “Who’s that.”

“This,” Vanessa says around a laugh, crouching down to hoist Johnny up onto her hip. “This is Charity, she’s my friend.” She points at Charity with a gentle smile. “You gonna say hello?”

But Johnny hides his face, burying it into Vanessa’s hair, only turning to face Charity when he peeks through one eye.

“Hey big man,” Charity says softly drawing him away from Vanessa’s hair for a moment. “I like your suit.”

Johnny looks down at his appearance trying to work out if Charity’s actually talking about him. “Mummy made me wear it.” He grimaces as he tugs at his tie and it’s all Vanessa, the way the bridge of his nose scrunches up and his top lip curls. “It’s scratchy.”

Chuckling, Charity says, “That so,” pleased when Johnny nods. “My little boy doesn’t like his suit either.” She points over to where Moses is attempting to breakdance in the middle of the dance floor while Ryan and Noah watch him, laughing loud enough that the sound carries over to where they’re standing, and Johnny’s interest is suddenly amplified. “Hey,” she starts, turning to Vanessa for confirmation, “how about you go see if he wants to play?”

Vanessa’s grinning from ear to ear when Johnny nods, pushing at her shoulders to be let down. “Can we go play?” He asks Charity just to be sure, tugging at her hand that’s still laced with Vanessa’s until she untangles their fingers.

“‘Course.” Charity says, leading both Vanessa and Johnny over to her own kids, oblivious to their presence until she clears her throat loud enough for them to turn. “Hope you’re not standing by while he tries to break his own neck, are you?”

Noah, grinning, points down at Moses who’s sliding around on his knees, scuffing his shoes and trouser legs as he does so. “He’s well funny, mum.” He says, “He dances like you.”

Vanessa lets out a bark of a laugh from behind her and Charity turns to scowl. “I do not dance like that.” She says, swatting Noah on the back of his head. “Just for that,” she says, pointing between Ryan and Noah, “You two are on babysitting duty for the rest of the night.”

“What? Why me?” Ryan moans. “He said it, not me. I think you’re a brilliant dancer.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” Charity says in an overly sweet voice. “For that, you can look after him.” She says, pointing at Moses who’s doing a forward roll into Lydia’s skirt, almost yanking it down her legs. “And you,” Charity tugs on Noah’s ear until he comes to a stop in front of Johnny who’s staring up at him with wide, curious eyes, “can make sure he has a brilliant time and doesn’t get his clothes dirty.”

“ _Mum_.”

“Can’t hear you over the sound of this god-awful music, kid.” Charity says loud enough for Paddy to turn and glare at her. “If he so much as has a crease in that little waistcoat of his, I’ll bash your heads together.”

-

Charity welcomes the freezing air with a gentle sigh as she steps out into the small courtyard through the doors at the back of the reception hall. It’s nice, full of trees, vines that climb up the old brick walls of the building, and strings of glowing yellow bulbs that light up the whole area. But despite its appealing exterior and without Vanessa around, Charity feels her shoulders growing tense again.

There’s a guy stood off to the side, beneath one of the heat lamps smoking, and Charity recognises him as one of Paddy’s old university friends. Nerdy and sort of goofy looking.

“Couldn’t take one of those, could I?” She asks, wrapping her arms around herself to shield her bare skin from a gust of wind that carries the end of summer away with it.

“Here.” He says smiling, handing her over one of the cigarettes and his lighter, it’s one of those in your face ones that flip open with an obnoxious dragon design engraved into the front. “You’re the maid of honour, right?”

“That’s me.” She sparks up the lighter and holds the flame against the end of the cigarette, feeling a dizzying rush as she exhales the cloud of smoke into the air. “God, that’s good.”

“Been a while?”

“Nineteen years.” Charity groans and reaches out onto a bench to steady herself from the rush of nicotine that races through her system. Vanessa had never liked her smoking.

“But who’s counting.” He says shuffling closer to Charity. “What you doing out here alone?” The sour looking smirk that slides up his face has Charity wanting to laugh off his pathetic excuse of a pick-up line.

“Fresh air.” She states simply, raising an eyebrow at her hand as she takes an obvious step away from his whiskey and tobacco breath.

“So, you’re not running away from anyone in there,” he matches her step for step, backing her into the side of a plant pot. “Husband, boyfriend?” His eyes drop to her left hand.

“Girlfriend.” Charity doesn’t need to turn to recognise Vanessa’s voice. “How long has it been? Eleven years? Must have been, last I saw you was your wedding.” Charity fights to stifle her smirk, clamping her lips into a thin line because this is a rare sight, witnessing Vanessa like this, all snarl and no manners. “Running away from the wife, Clive? Saw her an’ the kids inside.”

“Alright, V?” The man, Clive, stumbles back against the heat lamp, caught in the act, and hisses when he clutches the metal pillar to keep himself standing. His composure crumbles, the alcohol taking on its full affect now that he’s under scrutiny of someone who knows him personally. “Didn’t realise you were seeing anyone.”

“They’re waiting to leave,” is all Vanessa says as her arm circles around Charity’s waist. “Best to not to keep her waiting, eh?”

“Right, yeah.” He gives the pair a flustered nod, making to side step around them, but stops short, holding his hand out expectantly. “Can I have my lighter back?”

Charity silently slips the brass lighter into Vanessa’s blazer pocket, smiling sweetly as she does so. “What lighter?” He doesn’t argue after that, trudging back in through the French doors to find his family. Vanessa and Charity are quiet for a beat before they break out into laughter. “Wife, girlfriend… come on, Ness, make up your mind.” She teases, slumping down into the bench behind her, taking a long drag of the cigarette.

“Still trying to work that one out.” Vanessa teases as she sits down beside her, crossing her legs and hugging her arms tight across her chest. “Thought you quit?” But despite her words, she reaches out and takes it from between Charity’s fingers, pressing it to her own lips.

“I have. I don’t buy my own anymore, do I?” Laughing as she slumps against the bench; she snatches the cigarette back. “Who’re you running away from?”

“Have a guess.” Vanessa scoffs as she leans into Charity’s side, dropping her head to her shoulder. There’s a comfortable air that falls between them, Vanessa warming the chill in the wind with an effortless ease. She’s good at that, Charity thinks, Vanessa always has been, making the world around them seem brighter and more cheerful than it really is.

“An annoying ex-housemate, by any chance?” Charity chuckles and winds her arm around Vanessa’s shoulders, feeling some of the tension ease from Vanessa’s frame. “What’s she done?”

“Nothing.” Vanessa sighs, rubbing at her cheek tiredly. “She’s just been on my back since we got here. None. Stop.”

“Same old then?” Charity gives Vanessa a gentle squeeze as she tips her head back to look up at the lights crossing over their heads, the yellow glow obscuring the stars that are beginning to peek out through the clouds.

“Paddy asked us to buy into the practice in the village, Charity.” Vanessa’s voice drops a few octaves like she’s talking about something she shouldn’t be, like she’s giving Charity a reason to bolt again, but there’s something pleading in the way her frame stiffens against Charity’s side, a silent hope that she won’t.

“You what now?” Charity’s head snaps back up to attention and she pulls her arm back, flicking the cigarette into a nearby plant pot dismissively neglecting the last couple of puffs she could have savoured.

“I told her I’d think about it,” Vanessa says, turning with a worried expression to face Charity. “I wanted to make sure it would be okay with you.” Her bottom lip tugged tightly between her teeth, worrying it to the point the skin turns white and then red. “That it wouldn’t be weird.”

“Why?” Charity asks dumbly, her brow dipping into a deep frown, because for the life her, she can’t seem to find a problem with the current situation, a reason for Vanessa to be worrying the way she is. Charity’s heart’s pounding in her chest, thumping out a pleading mantra against her ribs for Vanessa to jump at the chance.

“Because it would mean me moving here.” Her nose scrunches in that way that makes Charity’s hard edges soften. “I’d move into the village.”

She lets out a confused noise through her nose, somewhere between and scoff and gasp. “That’s a good thing, babe.” Charity reaches across the almost none existent space between them and clutches Vanessa’s hands in her own. “An amazing thing.” It is, it would mean they wouldn’t have to go another ten years without seeing each other again, wouldn’t have to say goodbye tonight and wonder if it would be the last or if it would be the third time out of a handful more. Charity’s not sure she’d be capable of coping if it was the latter, not this time around.

“Really?” The genuine shock to Vanessa’s voice makes Charity laugh.

“Yes, Ness.” She breathes the words and pulls one of her hands free to gently cradle Vanessa’s cheek in her palm. “I’d get to see you every day.” Charity doesn’t try to hide the sincerity and excitement from her tone, can’t fight it from reaching her eyes, but she does restrain from leaning in and kissing Vanessa right there and then.

“Are you sure?” Vanessa leans into her touch, eyes fluttering for a moment before they still under Charity’s gaze, holding it steady.

A breathy laugh parts her lips but there’s not quite as much teasing in her words as she would have liked. “If you don’t, I’ll call the police for abandoning me.”

“Maybe the NSPCC for that.” Vanessa says, giving Charity’s shoulder a weak nudge to push her away before quickly reaching out and pulling her back in, closer this time.

“Oi, you.” Charity quips, smiling to match the grin on Vanessa’s lips. “I think you should take him up on his offer,” she feels her eyes begin to drift down of their own accord, before they come to a stop on Vanessa’s lower lip, caught gently between her teeth. “Not for me, but it’s an amazing opportunity for you.”

“Okay.” It comes out so simple and so decisive, final, that for a long moment, Charity isn’t sure what to say, can’t find the words to describe what she’s feeling and do them justice at the same time. _Good_ , it’s more than good that Vanessa would want to move so close, to be so close to Charity. _Thank you_ , Vanessa isn’t doing this for her, so she can’t thank her for that, but she is thankful, thankful that there’s no reason for either for them to run away from whatever this is anymore, no reason to fight the obvious pull that has so adamantly dragged them together over and over again for the past twenty years.

So she doesn’t say anything at all.

And she hopes that Vanessa can see it, without Charity having to explain herself, that this is it for her now, that she won’t be running anymore, and she won’t be pushing Vanessa away ever again.

Vanessa meets her halfway. Their lips slide together through the cool evening air and for the first time since that first night, twenty years and nearly eleven months ago, Charity doesn’t feel a need to rush this, she doesn’t feel a thrum of regret or panic low in her gut and there’s no whispering voice of Mrs Woodflied telling her she’s not good enough for her daughter.

For the first time everything is right. Even with the drowned noise of the reception carrying on without them, the laughing and singing, and the cold wind ghosting over them. It’s right and settled, and so, Charity deepens the kiss, sinking her hands into Vanessa’s hair and probably ruining the neat braid she’s put effort into making look perfect in the process. She pulls her closer, feeling Vanessa sigh through her nose and a confident tongue dart out against her lips.

They’re alone in the courtyard, but even if they weren’t, Charity doesn’t think she’d be able to stop herself from matching Vanessa’s pace. She certainly can’t stop herself from releasing the moan that forms somewhere in the back of her throat when Vanessa’s rakes her fingers suggestively down her jaw, trailing them gently down the column of her neck until they stop, flat against her collar bones. “I’ve missed you.” She manages to breath out, the corners of her lips tugging up into a soft smile. The warm puffs of air that escape her lungs are comforting, flooding her body with that familiar light that Charity just wants to exude whenever she’s around Vanessa.

Vanessa inches back slightly, still close enough that their foreheads are pressed together. “Me too.” She whispers because they’re both too scared to raise their voice any louder than they already are, worried that even the slightest interruption could shatter the moment. “Would it be presumptuous of me to ask you to come back to mine tonight?” Vanessa says, blushing even as she speaks. “Tracy’s taking Johnny to my dad’s, so I’ve got a free house.”

Charity’s smile turns in to a genuine grin and she quickly leans in to press a chased kiss to the corner of Vanessa’s mouth. “Are you flirting with me, Ness?”

Vanessa rolls her eyes, but her smile doesn’t falter as she plays with a strand of Charity’s hair. “You complaining?”

“Definitely not.”

“Mummy!”

“Looket.”

Johnny and Moses both come barrelling out of the French doors, pitted in dust and sticky with what Charity hopes to god is the residue from the cake. She hopes she’s right, if the way the two boys are practically vibrating as they run towards them is anything to go by. “What did you do?”

“Found sweet machine in the cupboard.” Moses proclaims, far too proud of himself.

Johnny is chewing on something loudly, struggling to fit whatever it is, inside his small mouth. “What are you eating?” Vanessa snaps, jumping up to grab him but he’s already dashing off around the other side of the bench, giggling between choking coughs. “Come here.” She says, reaching out for him before he can crawl behind a plant pot. “Stop.”

Moses climbs up onto a bench opposite them, bouncing up and down until the wood between his feet begins the creek ominously. “Cake and _sweets_ , cake _and_ sweets…” His eyes grow frighteningly wide with each word.

Charity’s about to give Vanessa a hand when her phone begins to ring inside her purse, bringing her to a slow pause as she rummages through it, pulling out her lipstick and eyeliner until she finds it.

“Hello?” She asks, tucking it between her shoulder and cheek as she wrangles with her son’s fidgeting form and sits Moses down on the bench beside her.

“Ms Dingle?”

“Yeah?” She pulls out a packet of tissues and starts wiping at Moses’ hands. “Sorry what?” She frowns as she tries to concentrate on the unfamiliar voice on the other end of the line while trying to hold her son still.

“Your father…”

“Stay still, kid.”

“Stop it, mummy.”

“…sorry to tell you…”

“Johnny spit it out.” Vanessa’s just about holding Johnny upside down as she tries to pull out what looks to be a wine cork from his mouth. “You’ll be sick.”

“…passed away.”

“Sorry, what did you just say?” Everything seems to still, freezing with a sudden coldness. “Who’s dead?”

Vanessa straightens up behind her, listening in on the one-sided conversation. She rounds the bench and perches herself down on the other side of Moses, sitting Johnny in her lap.

“Ms Dingle,” the voice comes slower this time. “I’m sorry to tell you that your father passed away tonight in his home. One of our nurses found him when they went to do their rounds.” Charity doesn’t know what she’s feeling in that moment, numb? Not really, it’s definitely something, but she’s not devastated, not the way she had been with her mother, or baby Grace or Lisa… This is something on the other end of that scale. Relief almost, but not quite that, either. “We think it was liver failure.”

“Right, okay.” She says impassively. Her eyes flicker up to meet Vanessa’s. “Do you need me to come and sign something or…? It’s just I’m at a wedding, see, and I’ve been drinking so I can’t come tonight.”

‘ _You okay_?’ Vanessa mouths silently as she finishes up cleaning both Johnny and Moses’ sticky hands and faces.

_‘My dad_.’

“You don’t need to rush off tonight.” The woman says but there’s something stiff about the way she says it, like she’s judging Charity for not sounding more distraught. “Could you come to his address tomorrow morning, though? There’s a few legal matters that need to be discussed along with the funeral.”

Vanessa stretches her hand along the back of the bench and winds her fingers around Charity’s, giving them a gentle squeeze. It’s not needed, Charity doesn’t need the comfort, or the sympathy that’s drawing across Vanessa’s features, but she doesn’t brush off the contact despite herself. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Ten o’clock okay for you?”

“That’ll be fine.” Charity says and is about to hang up when she adds, more out of respect for the woman on the phone than anything else, a quick, “thank you for letting me know.”

Vanessa doesn’t say anything for a while, wrapping her free arm around Johnny while Moses climbs up Charity’s body, swinging his arms around her neck. “You okay?”

“My dad’s dead.” Vanessa knows better than to apologise, all too familiar with Charity’s family history, but she gives her hand another squeeze, her lips stretching into a thin smile.

Clearing her throat, Charity straightens against the back of the bench and looks down at Moses. “Time for bed, I think.”

The four of them make their way back inside wordlessly, splitting off towards their separate tables. It doesn’t take long for a subdued Charity to explain the situation to Debbie, her daughter all too understanding and offers to take Moses for the night. Noah’s already run off with Ryan and Irene, apparently unable to turn down the promise of an all-night computer game marathon, so that leaves Charity’s child free until tomorrow afternoon.

It doesn’t take Charity too long after that, to find Vanessa hovering patiently by the exit. The majority of the wedding party having already simpered off until the hall is only catering for a handful of intoxicated Dingle’s. “Debbie’s taking Moses home with her and Noah’s buggered off with Ryan-”

“I know I asked you to-”

They both cut each other off, hurry to excuse and explain away the situation that had abruptly and unexpectedly fallen upon them.

Charity smiles despite herself and takes a step closer towards Vanessa. “I could do with the company.” She says, fiddling with the clasp on her bag. “If the offer still stands?”

“You sure?” Vanessa asks but Charity’s already nodding. “Cup of tea and a film?” She laces their fingers together and begins leading them down the steps towards the front of the building where a congregation of taxis are already sat waiting.

Charity scoffs. “Not the way you make it, babe.” She holds the door open for Vanessa and smirks when she shoots a sarcastic look her way. “Glass of wine, though?”

“This do?” Vanessa asks, buckling her seat belt before straightening up to flash a bottle of white wine hidden beneath her blazer.

Charity feigns a shocked gasp that easily blurs into a disbelieving laugh. “You’re making a habit of this.” She ducks her head to press a quick kiss to Vanessa’s cheek, smiling when she leans into the contact.

“It’s good wine!”


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting close to the end now

_Talkin’ ‘bout heart and soul_

_That I love you_

_I love you_

_-_

“Where’s the nearest bus stop?” Charity asks, not looking up from the crossword she’s been dwelling on for the past half an hour. She’s still curled up on the couch beneath Vanessa’s duvet on the couch, the pair having dragged it down the stairs earlier that morning.

“What do you want the bus for?” Vanessa pokes her head in through the door, frowning before she disappears again, returning a second later with two steaming mugs of tea. Charity still feels the sleep, heavy like lead in her bones, even after a full night of nothing but snoring quietly into one of Vanessa’s pillows. She almost feels guilty for passing out the moment her body had hit the sheets, but the phone call from the night before is seeping into her body like exhaustion.

Charity blows over the top of her cup, watching the steam dissipate in the cool air, but decides to let it cool down a bit longer on the coffee table first. “For transport, Ness.” She teases with playfully wide eyes. “That’s what people use it for, don’t they?”

Vanessa rolls her eyes, swatting at Charity’s legs so she can sit down on the end of the couch. “Shut up.” She gathers Charity’s legs back into her lap and turns to face her. “I’ll give you a lift.”

“Oh,” Charity shakes her head slightly flustered. “No, it’s fine, babe.” She turns back to the crossword for the distraction because Vanessa’s smiling at her like _that_ , and it’s too early for her heart to be racing the way it is and her heads still muddled after last night’s news, in a way that makes her feel off, not wrong, but not quite right either. “I need to go to my dad’s anyway.”

Vanessa gives a dismissive shrug. “Same address?” She asks and Charity nods. “On my way to me dad’s, then.” Her hands come to settle on top of Charity’s ankles, and she gives the warm skin a gentle squeeze. “Need to pick Johnny up before lunch.”

“Ness-”

“Nope.” Vanessa gives a firm shake of her head, ending whatever argument Charity’s about to start. “Want some breakfast?” She can only nod dumbly, tongue feeling swollen in her mouth, when Vanessa climbs to her feet, draining her mug.

Charity huffs out a breath and tosses the paper down onto the table, replacing it with the mug. She settles into the feeling of heat rising up her wrists and slumps into the back of the couch. The living room’s quiet, only the sound of distant traffic manages to seep its way in through the double glazing, and Charity feels herself slowly slipping away into her thoughts.

Vanessa’s home reminds her of the student house she used to live in, with its tall ceilings, narrow hallways and blank walls, the only difference being is that this house has heating. It’s a nice place, nice enough at least; lived in and warm. And while it’s a step up from the terraced house in the dodgy end of Leeds, the small semidetached house she finds herself in now, still doesn’t meet Charity’s expectations.

There’re pieces of Vanessa scattered over almost every surface, paperwork, books, photos and ornaments, but the house is lacking the brightness that she so effortlessly emanates. Charity isn’t sure what it is, why she can’t seem to settle on the idea that Vanessa actually lives here, maybe it’s the newfound knowledge that Vanessa will soon be moving out and moving into the village, or the unsettling tension riddling its way down her spine after last night’s phone call…

The wedding had been going so well and Charity had actually felt herself letting loose for once, and for the first time, she was ready to give Vanessa everything, she still is and that’s not something she can even question.

But there’s something about her dad’s death that has her rattled. She hasn’t seen him in nearly twenty-eight years, hasn’t had any form of contact other than the occasional father’s day card sent his way when she remembers – which isn’t very often since half of her own kids don’t have one to send too either – but he’d never put in any effort after he’d kicked her out, never tried to get to know her kids and as far as Charity’s aware, he’d never even asked about her, even to Zak.

She wants to kick herself for silently admitting that she doesn’t care that he’s dead now because she wants to, she wants to cry and feel _something_ , something substantial, but all there is in the back of her mind, is a looming darkness that’s threatening to claw her back into a place that Charity hopes she’ll never find herself in again.

That weight on her shoulders subsides somewhat when Vanessa comes back into the room, smiling softly with her car keys in her hand. “Bacon’s on, and I set a spare change of clothes out on my bed for you.”

Charity abandons her cold tea on the table and bundles up the duvet in her arms. “Nothing yellow or floral, I hope?”

Laughing, Vanessa shoves Charity towards the stairs. “Don’t worry,” she leans around the banister to call up after her, “I had something that didn’t involve any primary colours.”

“Abandoned in the wardrobe by the previous owner, babe?” Charity mutters, letting the soft smile curl at the corners of her lips as Vanessa’s laughter carries up the stairs after her.

-

Charity shoots Vanessa a fleeting wave as she pulls up to the front of the house, turning to pull the door shut behind her. She’s trying to remember the last time she stood here, the last time she saw the faded white of the plastic or the frosted glass window. She can’t, her memories fading over time until the images that she’s tried to keep locked away have eventually melded into one. Charity suddenly finds it impossible to pin point a specific moment, one that she can distinguish from others.

With the box secure in her arms, Charity trudges down the driveway feeling like that darkness has only continued to grow despite sitting through an hour and a half of Obadiah’s solicitor reading through his will and funeral proceedings. He’s had it all planned and paid for, apparently, liver failure giving him enough time to settle his own affairs without having to involve the rest of his family.

“He didn’t tell anyone.” Charity mumbles as she climbs in through the passenger side door, only managing a half-hearted smile when Johnny waves at her from his car seat in the back. “‘Part from his nurses.”

The box, while only filled with a few pieces of paper and a photo album, feels agonisingly heavy in her lap.

“Stuck up, old bas-” Charity clamps her lips closed around the word quickly, but the sentiment carries to Vanessa anyway, and she reaches out to lace her fingers with hers. “Funeral’s next Tuesday.”

She doesn’t mean to tune out, ignoring whatever words of comfort that Vanessa has to offer, but there’s a bitter taste of resentment forming on the back of her tongue that screaming at her to wash it down with a bottle of wine.

He’d always made dying seem so simple, so unaltering, and he’d treat his own passing the same way. And maybe that should make Charity feel numb about the whole thing, calm her somehow, but instead, she finds herself reeling uncontrollably down the direction she’d found herself when she’d gotten pregnant with Debbie.

Obadiah had sat her down that afternoon and had stated so passively that her mum had died of cancer, like it wouldn’t rip their family apart. He’d warned Charity away from ever falling in love with someone because of the trouble it would bring, and those words seem to settle with Charity again, after twenty-seven years, with the same resounding fear.

Charity doesn’t hate him for it, hates what he did, sure, but she could never hate someone she never really knew in the first.

“Want to come in for some dinner?” Charity manages to form a coherent sentence when they pull up outside of the Woolpack, completely at a loss for time, the whole journey passing by in a daze.

Vanessa turns in her seat to face Johnny. “What d’you say, want some food?”

Johnny only stairs blankly up at his mother but Charity finds herself smiling slightly at the sight. “Moses is inside, you can play with his toys.”

At that, Johnny perks up, yanking at the buckle of his seat belt.

They skip the pub, heading straight through to the back room and Charity dumps the box down on the floor by the dining table, kicking it under one of the chairs dismissively. “Moses?” She calls from the kitchen.

“He’s in ‘ere with me.” Noah shouts back from his bedroom, voice dulled by the floor separating them.

She wanders over to the door, gesturing for Vanessa to take a seat on the couch. “Vanessa and Johnny are here, you two coming down?”

She doesn’t get a verbal response, instead, the sound of two sets of feet, one scurrying faster than the other, can be heard bumbling down the stairs. “What’re they doing here?” Noah grunts.

“Ey,” Charity slaps the back of his head. “Manners.”

“That hurt.”

“Don’t care, say hello.” She snaps, flicking the kettle on and pulling out two mugs from one of the cupboards.

Noah stomps through to the kitchen and pulls out a bottle of juice from the fridge, not pulling his eyes away from where they’re glued to one of the magnets on the door. “Hi.” Moses, on the other hand, seems more pleased by Vanessa and Johnny’s surprise visit, dragging him from Vanessa’s lap and towards his toy chest in the corner of the room.

Noah’s quick to leave after that, scurrying back up the stairs without a second glance and leaves Moses and Johnny playing contently on the carpet with a set of dinosaurs and a transformer. “Need a hand?” Vanessa asks carefully, moving over to the kitchen and gestures down at the ingredients that are laid out in a mess to make Irene’s lasagne.

“I’m good,” Charity gives a stiff shake of her head, “you just sit yourself down, babe.” She ignores the worried glance that Vanessa shoots her way, turning back to the tomatoes on the chopping bored. “I’m good.” She says again, still less convincing than the first time.

“I’m not going to ask you to talk about it, y’know?” Vanessa sits herself down in one of the chairs but doesn’t take her eyes off Charity.

Charity shrugs, trying her best to focus on the methodical chopping of the blade as it slams into the wooden board. “Even if you had, there’d still be nothing to say.” She looks up for a brief second to shoot Vanessa a reassuring smile, one she’s sure doesn’t quite reach her eyes. But she’s not lying, there really isn’t anything to say, not when Charity isn’t entirely sure of what it is that she’s feeling in the first place. Her dad’s dead, _long time coming_ , she thinks bitterly, because from the very beginning, Obadiah had been the rout course of all of Charity’s issues. The drinking and the abuse, emotional and physical, it had all stemmed from him, and that’s something she can never forgive him for. “Good riddance, if you ask me.”

“Charity-”

“No, you know what?” She can feel that darkness in the back of her mind beginning to seep through her veins, fuelling a surprising bout of anger and her grip tightens on the knife, knuckles turning white. “He’s done the world a favour, Ness.”

Vanessa stays quiet and Charity feels oddly grateful for it because there’s something brewing deep down that she needs to get out, needs to do something before she implodes. She ignores the coffee steaming beside her and walks over to the fridge, yanking out the first bottle of wine she finds and unscrews the top.

“Never was a nice bloke, my dad, between the religion and the drinking…” She trails off in favour of gulping down an unhealthy amount of the alcohol but it’s Vanessa who grimaces at the obvious burn in Charity’s throat. “He was cold and bitter and a bloody awful excuse for a dad.”

“Charity, slow down.” Vanessa’s voice is filled with concern, but it does nothing to slow Charity’s incessant pace, because she’s already zoning out again, knife hammering down dangerously close to her fingers like a jackhammer, beating down in time with her racing heart.

“I know he didn’t like me.” She says, jaw clenching painfully. “But you know what’s worse than that? He didn’t even love me, Ness, when he looked at me, it was never warm or caring, y’know.”

Vanessa’s hovering precariously on the edge of her chair.

“I’m only sorry my mum didn’t get to see him go first.” Charity’s voice takes a threatening turn, icy cold and poisonous. “I think she’d have enjoyed seeing him suff- _fuck_.”

The sharp edge of the knife slices into Charity’s finger with an audible split of skin, and a deep crimson stream begins pouring from the cut instantly. Vanessa’s up out of her seat in seconds and rushing to Charity’s side, gripping her wrist and lifting her hand up level with her shoulder.

“Jesus Christ.” Charity hisses under her breath, eyes watering when tomato juice trickles into the cut, but there’s a cold realisation settling behind her eyes like a migraine, the room beginning to spin as the edges of her vision turn blurry.

Johnny and Moses are too distracted, thankfully, to take much notice of what’s going on, but Vanessa ushers Charity over to the sink and out of view.

“Keep that up.” Vanessa says, lifting Charity’s other hand to replace her own while she yanks a tea towel from the draw. She’s struggling to keep herself steady on her own feet but she’s not sure if that’s down to the sight of a steady stream of blood travelling down her forearm or the abrupt understanding and comprehension that the dark void poisoning her from the inside out isn’t because of her dad at all. “Here.” Vanessa quickly grabs Charity’s wrist again and wraps it carefully in the towel, squeezing gently to stop the bleeding. “Come sit down.”

Charity does as she’s told and slumps into the chair that Vanessa’s vacated. “I can do it.” She snaps suddenly, pulling her hand free of Vanessa’s fussing but immediately regrets it. Vanessa’s face is blank, but a stern eyebrow rises up her forehead challengingly. “I don’t need looking after.” Her voice comes softer this time, tone apologetic but Charity doesn’t let Vanessa reach back over the table to help her.

Bitter and cold, uncaring, unlovable… Charity had been describing her dad, word for word without a doubt, but as the knife had sunk down into her finger, pulling her from her thoughts with a blinding flash, she’s hit with the realisation that she may as well have been describing herself.

“I’m going to clean this, and finish up, okay?” Charity can only muster up distant nod, staring blankly at the two boys playing in the living room.

She loves her kids, without any hesitation or uncertainty, but it had taken her a long time, a shameful amount, to learn how to. With Debbie and Ryan, it had been hard to at first, the history and consequences tied to them, had left Charity flailing for months before Irene had found her and taught her how, had shown her first-hand how to love someone unconditionally when no one else had. She didn’t have to, didn’t have to adopt her months after adopting her own kids, but she had anyway.

Chas and Paddy come in at some point, stirring up a fuss about her hand and the kids before they disappear a short while after.

Loving Noah and Moses had come a little easier to her, but back then, after everything that had happened, she was so damaged and broken that her drinking had escalated, mistakes had followed, a lot of them. She’d nearly lost them on more than one occasion and that’s something she’s still trying to forgive herself for.

Charity knows that she’s come a long way since then, since Obadiah had thrown her onto the streets when she was only thirteen, but the newfound knowledge that she has more in common with him than she’s ever realised, sets her on edge with a new raging fear deep in her gut.

It’s not until Vanessa sets down a plate off lasagne in front of her, that Charity blinks out of her stupor, the boys sitting between them and hungrily shovelling down forkfuls of their meal. Vanessa fusses over them, getting them to slow down before they choke and the sight makes Charity smile, its soft, and barely there, but she feels her cheeks lift, slightly stiff, and a warm flush of heat wraps itself around her heart when Vanessa looks up to meet Charity’s eyes, a smile of her own beaming back at her.

Charity doesn’t fight the urge to reach across the table with her good hand, winding her fingers with Vanessa’s easily. “Thank you.” She whispers gently, ducking her eyes down to her plate of food.

“Eat up.” Vanessa says, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze before she lets it go. “It’ll get cold.”

Charity doesn’t realise, until she picks up her fork, that Vanessa’s wrapped her finger in a blue Paw Patrol plaster, and the smile on her face grows into a grin, despite the despondent ache in her bones.

Vanessa offers to clear up after dinner, but Charity’s already piling the plates into her arms and carrying them over to the sink. “You did all of the hard work, babe.” She says, brushing Vanessa off with a thankful smile. “Sit yourself down an’ I’ll get this sorted.”

She grabs two bottles of beer for the both of them, finishing off the dishes quickly, and slumps down onto the couch beside her,the sky darkening to a rich, velvet-blue, black in the windows on the opposite wall.

“Can you still do that thing with these?” She asks, waving one of the bottles out to Vanessa.

“Haven’t done it in a while.” Vanessa smiles smugly up at Charity, “could give it a go.”

The slight frown that seems to have found its way to her face again, flips upside down when Vanessa caps the bottles on the edge of the coffee table, drawing a distant memory back to the forefront of her mind and warming her chest in the process.

It helps her forget, for just a moment, that things aren’t okay.

“What did Paddy and Chas say before?” She asks, keeping her eyes on the TV as she flicks through the channels, settling on a movie that Vanessa used to make her sit through almost every night back when she was in uni.

“Oh,” Vanessa straightens up with an excited wiggle, turning to face Charity, beaming. “He had some paperwork for me to sign.”

“Exciting paperwork, by the sounds of it.” Charity teases, nudging Vanessa playfully.

“Just the legal stuff for my share of the vets.” She explains, reaching out to inspect Charity’s finger.

“It’s official then?” Charity uses Vanessa’s curiosity as an excuse to link their fingers together, tugging Vanessa’s hand into her lap. “You’re moving here?”

“I start in two weeks.” Vanessa all but squeals her excitement. “Just need to find myself somewhere to live now.”

Vanessa has always made it easy, easy to forget about all the bad things, easy to be happy, easy to let her in. It’s why, with the boys upstairs tormenting Noah, Charity leans in and kisses Vanessa, her hands coming up to cup either side of her neck like it’s something they do all of the time, so casual and normal, and easy.

Vanessa softens against her front and her own hands reach out to Charity’s hips, squeezing gently. Charity feels her sigh through her nose, the warm air ghosting across her skin, and she melts into everything that is Vanessa, feeling the sunshine and warmth radiating off of her, fighting the darkness and the cold in Charity’s own mind until it’s nothing more than a whispering voice somewhere locked away.

“We never were good at being friends.” Vanessa lets out a breathy chuckle as Charity eases her down onto her back.

“I don’t know,” Charity manages between kisses up the column of her neck, “I think we could have been best friends.”

“ _Charity_.” Vanessa lets out a long moan from somewhere in the back of her throat when Charity bites down on the pounding pulse beneath her skin. “I thought you said it would never work?”

Charity arches up, holding herself steady on the arm of the couch behind Vanessa’s head. “‘Course it could have worked,” she states it with so much fact and simplicity because there’s no doubt in her mind, that if she wanted to be Vanessa’s friend, kept it the way they had for those six months, she could have, if she’d just tried a little bit harder. “Just couldn’t settle for that, could I?” There’s so much more to it than just that, her voice giving out a betraying wobble and her features soften undeniably. But Vanessa doesn’t push, doesn’t make her confess to everything right then and there. Instead, she reaches up and gives a sharp tug to the back of Charity’s neck until she’s falling back on top of Vanessa, giggling breathlessly.

“Thank god you’re so stubborn, eh?” She chuckles beneath Charity and sinks her fingers into the long blonde mane of hair that’s formed a curtain around them.

There’s still so much more to be said, unspoken words dancing in the ocean blue of Vanessa’s eyes, blue that quickly turns to charcoal black when Charity shifts her thigh, purposefully pressing down between Vanessa’s legs. “Come here.” She says, winding her fist around the front of Vanessa’s shirt and drops her lips to hers, firm and determined, popping the buttons one by one.

-

“This is the most we’ve seen of each other since I was in uni.” Vanessa laughs, shrugging on her black coat and following Charity down the path of Tug Ghyll.

“No escaping me now, babe.” Charity teases and catches Vanessa’s hand in her own. “Thank you, y’know, for doing this.” She eases them to a stop just short of Vanessa’s car. “I know you an’ Tracy are busy with unpacking and stuff and-”

“Hey,” Vanessa steps in towards Charity, bringing her free hand to her cheek. “The boxes of cutlery and books I haven’t read in years can wait. I said I’d be there for you.”

Charity musters up a tight-lipped smile. “Means a lot.”

It doesn’t take them long to get to the church, and Charity isn’t at all surprised to find that the car park outside is next to empty. With Zak still grieving and the rest of the Dingles busy with their own lives, she didn’t expect anyone to show up at all. Charity questioned herself three times on the drive over as to why she was even coming at all, but she’s convinced herself it’s her need for closure, an end for a dusty old book that should have been finished years before it has.

“Here.” Vanessa fishes out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, the one they’d stolen from Clive the week before, from her jacket pocket. “Just one, if it’ll help you relax a bit, and then we’ll go in.”

Charity glances down at her feet when Vanessa gives her a sympathetic smile, pulling one of the cigarettes from the packet. “I thought we’d be the only ones here.” 

Vanessa looks out across the car park, there’s only three cars including the blue bug, and the sight is kind of pathetic. Charity remembers her mum’s funeral, the church packed to the brim with people having to stand at the back just to fit inside.

It makes her wonder then, as she stumps out her cigarette on the wall before flicking it away, if this is what she has to look forward to. The thought makes her feel sick, even as Vanessa takes her hand in her own and follows her into one of the pews, halfway up the aisle. There’s an elderly couple sitting opposite them, someone Charity feels as though she recognises from her childhood and a lone man at the front, stark white hair that’s bright inside the dimly lit church and a walking stick propped up beside him.

It’s a sad affair, one that Charity wishes she hadn’t agreed to come to, but the solicitor who’d dealt with Obadiah’s affairs had suggested she do so, for her own good. But now that she’s here, and despite Vanessa’s hand secure and firm in her own, Charity can only think about the cool breeze outside of the church, the wide-open space with clean air and Vanessa’s car waiting for them.

Being stuck inside the dusty old building, with the coffin perched at the front, has that darkness leaking from that locked box in the back of her mind again, causing her grip to subconsciously tighten around Vanessa’s hand.

She shouldn’t be here, she’s in a good place, she’s happy, so unbelievably happy now that Vanessa’s finally back in her life in a more permanent spot. But this, this poor excuse for a funeral, is tearing down the battlements that’s been built up inside her, the ones she’s had since she was thirteen, the ones that have kept her alive. She can feel them crumbling inside of her chest and Charity dreads to find out what’s been kept behind them after all this time.

“I need to go.” Charity lurches from her seat, refusing to let go of Vanessa’s hand because she knows it’s the only thing keeping her grounded in that moment.

“Charity?” Vanessa quickly follows her up but blocks her path of escape.

“Ness, I can’t be here,” she gasps breathlessly through her panic, “I need to go, please, can we go?”

Vanessa hesitates for a millisecond, eyes scanning the length of Charity’s body before she nods, “yeah, ‘course we can.” She nods hurriedly, stepping aside to let Charity past and follows her out of the doors.

“Fuck.” Charity snaps, once she’s free and able to calmly pull in a breath of air into her burning the lungs, the ground feeling stable beneath her feet outside. “Fuck, fuck… fuck.” Her knees give way, however, and Vanessa only just manages to catch her before she lands in the chalky gravel.

“Hey, hey.” Vanessa whispers softly into the top of her head, “I’ve got you, come on.” She eases Charity backwards to a nearby bench. “Talk to me, Charity.”

“I just need a second.” Charity manages to grit through a clenched jaw. “I can’t believe I talked myself into this.” Vanessa stays quiet, giving Charity the chance to gather her thoughts and compose herself to string together a coherent sentence. But it’s a good five minutes before Charity slumps against Vanessa’s side, her breathing calming to a gentle pace. “ _Why_ am I here, Ness?”

Vanessa winds her arm around Charity’s shoulders and pulls her closer. “Because like it or not, he’s your dad.” She says simply. “You don’t have to, like it, I mean, or even like him, but he was a big part of your life.”

“He’s never even been _in_ my life.” Charity whispers, her voice coming out stiff and small.

“And that’s his loss, isn’t it?” Vanessa leans back so she can catch Charity’s eye. “So, this is your chance to tell him that, and then, if it’s what you want, you never have to think about him again.”

“Tell me what to do.” Charity wants to be embarrassed by how weak she sounds, how broken and affected she is by the death of a man she hardly knew. “Please, Vanessa, because I feel like I’m drowning here.”

“I can’t.” Vanessa drops her forehead to Charity’s. “I’m sorry, but I can’t make that decision for you.” She skates her thumb under her eye, Charity hadn’t realised she was crying, and lets out a gentle sigh. “But I can give you options.”

“Let’s hear it then.” Charity straightens up and musters up a forced smile, lips tightly pressed together.

“Okay,” Vanessa mirrors Charity’s position and laces their fingers. “First option: we can leave now, go have a drink in the pub and then you can carry on with your life like today’s never happened.” Charity nods, letting her eyes close tightly because she doesn’t want to let Vanessa know how appealing that option is, knowing fine well it’s the one she should avoid. “Or, your second option: we can go back inside, you can put on a brave face and be the bigger man, then we can go home and have a drink and you can go on with the rest of your life knowing that there’s no way he can bring you down ever again.” As she speaks, Charity can feel herself crumbling into Vanessa’s arms, willing her to stay by her side and make the right decision for herself. “Which ever you chose, Charity, I’ll be right here, I’ll hold your hand, I’ll let you scream and shout at me, Christ,” she says laughing around a wet sob, “you can call me all the names under the sun, but I’m not gonna let you do this alone, okay?”

Charity looks up when she realises Vanessa’s crying to, her heart clenching painfully in her chest at the sight. She’s always hated being the cause of those tears, but she recognises them for what they are, for the first time. Obadiah had never cried, he would scream and swear, throw a few punches here and there, but he had never cried, had never cared enough to do so.

But Vanessa does, Vanessa always cares.

And she makes it easy for Charity to care, too.

“Come on.” Charity heaves in a painful breath that burns the inside of her lungs. “Let’s go wave the old bastard off.”

Vanessa seems relieved by her choice and doesn’t break her promise, holding her hand through the service as the vicar drones on for a good twenty minutes. She’s grateful for every second, every stroke of Vanessa’s thumb over the top of hers.

It’s not quite the relief she was hoping for, when the curtain closes around the coffin and the other three guests get up and leave. She doesn’t feel like a weight has been lifted or a light has been turned on, there’s still something riddling its way down her spine, but the panic has gone, and that’s good enough for now.

“Fancy a cuppa?” Vanessa asks quietly when they pull back into the village, she keeps her voice low and soft, something Charity is thankful for after the twenty minutes of silence shared during the journey back.

Charity shakes her head tiredly. “Think I’m gonna go get drunk in my room and pass out, babe.” She’s only half joking, but she knows fine well that there’s a new crate of wine down in the cellar begging to be drank. “Tomorrow?”

“’Course.” Vanessa says, smile not quite reaching her eyes as she leans in and places a kiss to the edge of Charity’s lips.

“Thank you for today.” She says as she climbs out of the car once they’ve come to a stop outside the pub.

Vanessa reaches out one last time to squeeze Charity’s hand. “No problem.”

-

Charity doesn’t raid the cellar like she had originally planned, instead, she climbs the stairs one step at a time, doing her best to ignore the screaming in her muscles begging her to curl up on the second step and just sleep until her brain has had enough time to process the day.

But she makes it up onto the landing, her bedroom door in sight, so she pushes on until she can collapse down into her sheets, sleep finding her instantly.

When she wakes up, its pitch-black outside and the pub is deathly silent. It’s late and a glance up at her phone confirms it, it’s nearly one in the morning and what was supposed to be a short nap had somehow turned into nearly seven hours. Charity groans and flips over onto her back, still fully clothed and no longer feeling tired. She immediately regrets not taking Vanessa up on her offer for that drink, staring straight up at the ceiling.

She could have had the distraction, a weak cup of tea and a drab movie to watch, but in its place, Charity finds her mind wandering back to the funeral. She’s glad Vanessa had given her the kick she needed to stay, a small push in the right direction because she does feel better for it, knowing that he’s gone for sure, it’s all over and done with, and she never has to think about the what if’s again. But she’s stuck thinking about her own future now, of all the decisions she’s made in her past that reminds her sickeningly of her dad.

Charity was cold and guarded, she pushed Vanessa away time and time again, mistakes were made when it came to the way she’d brought up her children, and she’s allowed past traumas, on more than one occasion, to push her towards one too many bottles of wine, sometimes something stronger. Charity’s spent so long resenting Obadiah for doing these things, that she’d ignored the way she’d adopted each one, each mannerism without even comprehending.

She lets out another groan, swinging her legs over the side of her bed and stomps down the stairs with heavy feet, a lack of concern as to whether she wakes up the rest of the house or not.

Charity flicks the lights on in the kitchen and fills the kettle. It’s something to keep her hands busy at least, but it does nothing for the uncontrollable battling of thoughts behind her eyes. She slumps against the counter with her arms crossed in front of her chest and tries to steady her breathing, eyes wandering rapidly around the room, searching desperately for a better distraction.

It’s when her eyes come to an abrupt holt at the edge of the dining table, a box hidden away under one of the chairs, behind the couch. She’d forgotten about the box of belongings that her dad had left for her, having tossed it aside after her meeting with his solicitor.

It’s probably a step in the wrong direction, making a hesitant move towards it, but her curiosity gets the better of her. It’s light, barely causing her to strain when she picks it up and places it down on top of the table. There’re a few pieces of paper in the bottom, probably old bits from Charity’s childhood, and a photo album.

She collapses down into one of the chairs ready to pull out the warn leather-bound book just as her phone chimes in her pocket and the kettle starts whistling. For a second, Charity freezes, sleep idled brain struggling to separate all three choices. She reaches down into her blazer pocket and pulls out her phone, Vanessa’s name popping up on the screen and her lips curl up into a steady smile.

It’s a picture of Vanessa drowning in a mess of wooden frames and instructions with a message underneath.

_I can perform heart surgery on a goldfish but can’t put together a bed… x_

It’s the first time today that Charity’s heard herself laugh, the text sending her heart racing in a good way, the way that makes her feel all warm and floaty. She softens into the back of the chair and types out a quick reply.

_That couch of yours is pretty comfortable, looks like you’ll have to make do babe x_

She turns back to the box, forgetting about the kettle in the kitchen and pulls out the album. It’s just as heavy as the box itself, slim and flimsy, and with a glance at the side, Charity can tell there’s only a few pages filled. 

But choosing not to dwell on that fact for too long, Charity flips open the cover to the first page. It’s a generic wedding photo, beige and wrinkled at the edge but her mum and dad are smiling up at her. They don’t look the way she remembers them. Her dad’s face is fuller, and his eyes are warm and bright with a full head of hair. Charity has Kathleen’s nose and there’s something in her eyes that feel familiar, it’s the only way she recognises her, everything else about her is foreign. Married life hadn’t done her parents any favours.

Charity continues through the rest of the album in the same manner, spending longer than she should trying to work out who the strangers in the photos are, until she comes to the realisation that they’re her parents and herself. Charity as a baby, then as a toddler, there’s plenty of those, but once she reaches the age of ten, or there about, the photos stop. And if she really wants to think about it, really try to understand why, she knows it’s because that’s when her dad had started drinking, when her mum had become more and more unhappy, snapping and shouting, it’s when Charity had gotten closer to Cain and Chas, preferring their company to her parents. 

_Why you still awake? X_

Vanessa’s reply lights up her phone, pulling Charity away from her thoughts once again like a life raft, keeping her head above the water.

_Couldn’t sleep, decided to look through that box of crap from me dads_

Charity sets the album aside and grabs a handful of paper from the bottom of the box. It’s mostly paintings from her childhood, the kind of pictures you have to cross your eyes to even try and comprehend, scribbles and swirls of bright colours. The paper feels old and flimsy, flaking and crumpled after years of sitting in storage. But mixed in with those, Charity finds a neatly folded letter with her dad’s name scrawled across the front in her mum’s handwriting. It looks almost new, the paper still a stark white compared to the others on top of it, there isn’t one crease on the page, causing Charity’s interest to pique apprehensively.

She’s already unfolding it and scanning the first couple of lines before she realises what she’s found, what probably shouldn’t have been mixed in with a bunch of kid’s paintings in the first place, because her blood suddenly turns to ice in her veins, painfully cold and suffocating as it does.

Charity stops breathing then. The world around her halting unexpectedly as she scrambles for her phone, hitting ‘call’ on Vanessa’s name without even thinking in a desperate turn of events to be close to someone, to have someone with her as the rapid recognition twists her world on its axis.

“Hey, you, shouldn’t you be slee-”

“Can I come over?” She’s crying, voice shaking uncontrollably with so much fragility that she doesn’t recognise herself anymore. “He lied, my dad, he lied about everything and I need to see you, I need you, Ness.” Charity sobs through a single rush of breath, packing everything frantically into the box and shoving it under her arm, fumbling with it until she gets a sturdy grip. “He lied about my mum.”

“Breathe, Charity,” Vanessa says calmly, a steady voice sounding through the speaker beside her ear. “Of course, you can come over.”

Charity’s throwing herself out of the backdoor as Vanessa speaks, racing down the carpark and out onto the main road. The tears don’t stop, however, even when the warm summer breeze hits her square in the face, drying her cheeks, her vision blurs beneath a fresh flow until she can’t see where she’s going anymore.

She’s blindly blundering up the street when a set of secure arms wrap themselves around her body, Vanessa’s arms, strong and protective, guiding her in the right direction and up the stone steps of Tug Ghyll.

“What’s happened?” She can vaguely make out the indistinct outline of Vanessa through her misty eyes, crouching down in front of her but when she goes to speak, a wrecked sob scrapes its way up her throat painfully instead.

She’s clutching the letter in her hand, crumbling it beneath her vice like grip but she holds it out for Vanessa to take. She prises at Charity’s fingers, gently enough that it doesn’t hurt when she relaxes her hand enough for Vanessa to take it. “She didn’t have cancer, Ness.”

“What?”

“He lied to me, he lied to the whole family, their friends, he said she died in her sleep.” Charity blindly reaches for Vanessa, finding an offered hand and she pulls it towards her face, crying into the back of Vanessa’s knuckles because it feels like her whole world is falling apart around her and Vanessa’s the only thing that’s keep her from falling with it.

Vanessa’s quiet as she reads though, frown etching deep between her brow and even through her tears, Charity can see the anger beginning to bubble in those soft blue eyes when understanding dawns on her.

“She killed herself, Ness.” The strangled way she says her name has Vanessa dropping the letter a moment later, lunging forward to gather Charity in her arms. “She killed herself because she hated him so much. Because he couldn’t love us-”

Vanessa’s grip tightens, hard around her body until she can barely breathe, but it’s exactly what she needs in that moment, it’s keeping her together, keeping her from exploding and floating off into the air like burning ash. She whispers softly into the top of Charity’s head, rocking her back and forth while she crumbles and breaks, those battlements turning to dust in her chest.

It’s all Charity can do, cling to Vanessa like her life depends on it, hold on tight and cry, it’s all she’s capable of.

All her life, she’s been terrified of becoming her dad, turning into a monster who couldn’t love those closest to him, but it’s dawning on her, while Vanessa holds her lips to Charity’s temple and runs a reassuring hand up and down her spine, that she’s not like Obadiah at all.

She never could have been.

Because she loves Vanessa with all of her heart, loves her kids and her family with every inch of her being, it’s been that way since she can remember.

She feels her lungs stop gasping for breath and settles her face into the crook of Vanessa’s neck, breathing in deeply and forcing the floral and citrus scent of Vanessa’s shampoo and perfume deep into her veins. 

Charity isn’t her mum either, though, feeling lost and helpless, unloved and uncared for.

Because all Charity feels is loved and safe. For the past couple of months, Charity has come to realise that her family love her too, have done all of their lives and that could never change.

The burning in her blood stops a moment later, and her grip slackens from the front of Vanessa’s shirt.

“I’ve got you.” Vanessa mummers gently, she’s been saying it for a while but the ringing in Charity’s ears is only just easing up, the noise of the rest of the world following. “Come here, I’ve got you.”

Charity eventually feels the strength returning to her and she straightens up, wiping at her eyes. “Jesus, Ness,” she manages croakily, laughing. “It’s a tip in here.”

She’s only just noticed the unpacked boxes scattered throughout the living room, mismatched furniture and suitcases mixed in.

“Oi.” Vanessa mutters quietly, cupping Charity’s cheeks in her hands. “I hate unpacking, okay?” They both laugh but it’s a pathetic sound, wet with shared tears.

Charity sniffs weakly and runs her hands through her hair. “You need a hand with that bed?” She could do with the distraction, a bit more time to compose herself and come to terms with her mum’s suicide letter.

“You gonna talk about this if I say yes?” Vanessa stands, folding the letter and placing it onto the top of the box. She doesn’t give Charity the chance to reply, tucking it under her arm and taking her hand at the same time, already guiding her towards the stairs.

“Suppose I could.” Her legs shake with each step, but Vanessa holds her steady, all the way up the stairs and across the landing, until she can slump down onto the matrass on Vanessa’s bedroom floor.

There’s soft music playing from a speaker hidden away in the corner of the room and it helps bring Charity back to reality, brings attention to the fact that while her whole body is shaking, muscles and bones screaming at her to give up and go back to sleep again, she doesn’t feel that icy cold pain down her spine and the locked box in the back of her mind has gone, long since evaporated along with the ruins inside her chest.

She looks up to find Vanessa staring down at her, smiling bright despite the traumatic previous ten minutes, and Charity feels the last of the darkness lifting, drifting off out through the open window. “Bed’s not gonna make itself, babe.”

Vanessa sits herself down beside Charity and places the box between her legs. “You look like a panda.”

“Cheers.” Charity chuckles but her voice is still scratchy, and it gets caught in her throat. “I can’t believe he lied about it.” She says through a heavy sigh.

Vanessa shuffles closer and drops her head to Charity’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Charity.”

“I mean, I knew he was hell bent on the whole religion thing, ‘scuse the pun, but I couldn’t have imagined he’d go this far.” She reaches out for Vanessa’s hand.

“Are you going to tell the others?”

Charity wipes at her cheeks again, itchy from the dried tears and shakes her head. “I don’t know.” She mumbles. “Do you think it’s worth bringing it all back up again?”

Vanessa can only offer up a distant shake of her head, nudging the box with her sock clad toe. “Zak might want to know the truth.”

“I could just give them that, let them work it out for themselves.” Charity flops back down onto the matrass and lets her eyes flutter closed.

“Tell you what, don’t worry about them for now.” Vanessa reassures her. “You’ll know what’s best, but right now, you’re exhausted, and you need a distraction.”

Charity manages a tired smirk. “You just want me to build this bed for you.”

“Well I can’t flaming well sleep on the floor, can I?” Vanessa laughs and nudges Charity’s side with her own. “You want to change? You’ve been in those all day.”

Charity gives herself a quick once over, realising then that she’s still in the clothes she’d thrown on for the funeral and nods. “You gonna be able to find something in all this mess?”

Vanessa rounds a precious looking stack of boxes and rips open the tape on the top. “It may come as a surprise to you, Charity, but there is some organisation to this chaos.”

Charity grins smugly, grunting as she climbs to her feet and comes to stand beside Vanessa. “If you say so, babe.” She holds her hands out expectantly, waiting for a set of clean clothes but gasps out a breath when she immediately recognises the t-shirt that’s pressed into her palms. “I thought I’d lost this.”

It’s her old Salvation Army t-shirt, the one she used to wear constantly, the one she last wore in that London hotel room. “I might have accidently taken it, completely by mistake.” Vanessa mutters, doing a damn good job of her keeping her eyes diverted from meeting Charity’s. But she’s not so good at hiding the flaming red blush that climbs her neck and fills her cheeks.

Charity finds herself grinning again and she bumps Vanessa’s shoulder with her own. “I know it’s like a legal requirement to get a souvenir when you’re in the capital, Ness, but this doesn’t have the same effect.” She’s teasing her, reverting back to some sense of normality that eases Charity back into her calmer self.

“Shut up.” Vanessa mumbles, ducking her head again. “I’m only giving it back because it doesn’t smell like you anymore.”

That makes Charity do a double take, the seriousness to Vanessa’s tone sending Charity’s heart hammering in her chest. “Smells like you, though.” She says, bringing the soft material up to her nose.

There’s a moment of pause where neither of them can drag their eyes away from the other and Charity feels her knees going weak the way they always do when Vanessa looks at her like that, like she’s seeing for the first time, like nothing else has ever existed. “Go get changed.” Vanessa manages barely above a whisper.

Charity purses her lips into a feigned pout, stepping closer to Vanessa. “Not gonna give me a hand?”

Vanessa chuckles lightly and pushes Charity away, “I’m gonna go get us some wine.”

“Fine.” Charity groans but she’s grinning from ear to ear as she makes her way out of the bedroom, making a beeline towards the bathroom to wash the running mascara from her face. “But you should really think of clearing away some of this mess, what would your mum think?” She catches the sound of Vanessa’s laughter even over the sound of the tap running.

She comes back a couple of minutes later, shorts and t-shirt replacing the formal outfit she’d worn that day and face cleaned of any streaked makeup. Charity feels more alive but whether that’s down to the fact that she’s spent the last couple of minutes scrubbing at her face with cold water or because Vanessa turns to smile up at her when she walks back into the bedroom, is something she’s not got enough energy to dwell on right now.

“You were a cute baby.” Vanessa laughs softly, turning the page in the album she’s been inspecting to face Charity. “Nice bonnet.”

“I’m sure you’ve got some flattering ones in here somewhere.” Charity warns teasingly. Inching closer to a box with a scribbled ‘photos’ across the side in black marker pen.

“Nothing you’ve not seen already.” Vanessa shrugs, “used to show you them all the time, didn’t I?”

Humming, Charity climbs over the half-built bedframe and sets her down in the middle of the mess. “Constantly.” Charity mutters with a teasing roll of her eyes when she picks up the first set of instructions. But despite Charity’s incessant complaining whenever Vanessa would come back from her mum’s house with a stack of new photos, she’d always quite enjoyed listening to the stories that came with them, watching Vanessa flail her arms inanimately and the laughter that inevitably followed from both of them. “You’ve put the wrong screw in here.” Charity points to one of the joins in the bed as Vanessa climbs in beside her.

“Where’s this?” She asks and points down at one of the photos instead of looking up at her mistake.

Charity smiles anyway and begins unscrewing the corner of the bed. “Morecombe, I think.” She glances briefly down at the photo of a young Kathleen holding Charity in her lap along the sea front. She doesn’t remember it and she probably could have brushed it off as another family if the faces in the photos didn’t look so familiar. “Looks hot, doesn’t it?”

“You’re enjoying that ice cream,” Vanessa laughs pointing at the melting ice cream that’s crushed between Charity’s baby fingers, streaming down the front of her dress. “Reminds me of Debbie.”

“You think?” Charity pokes her tongue out of the side of her mouth, banging the frame into place with the palm of her hand, rewarding herself with a sip of wine when it eventually slides into place.

“Definitely,” Vanessa blindly hands Charity another screw, “you both have that same grumpy stare.” She’s laughing again, mimicking her words with a bad imitation of Charity and Debbie.

“Give over, pass me that thing.” Charity chuckles, shoving Vanessa’s face away from her at the same time she waves her hand towards a pile of bed frame and watches as Vanessa stares blankly. “That flat piece.”

“They’re all flat.” She deadpans.

Charity ends up putting the bed together herself and Vanessa distracts herself with the photo album and paintings from the box long enough that by the time they’ve finished, there’s a thin strip of light peaking up over the dales.

“How you feeling now?” Vanessa asks, flopping backwards on to the bed, both too exhausted to even attempt putting sheets on it.

Charity turns to face her with a tired smile, hair pulled up into a messy bun on the top of her head. “Better, yeah.” She says, reaching down through the space between them to tangle her fingers with Vanessa’s and gives her hand a reassuring squeeze. The smile on her face begins to grow wider when the speaker in the corner starts playing through an album that Charity recognises.

“I didn’t plan that.” Vanessa’s eyes widen with her own amused disbelief, rolling into Charity’s side to hide the blush creeping up her chest.

“Think you’re right, babe,” Charity whispers, winding an arm around Vanessa’s waist, “definitely following us.”

“Bit like that movie where the song plays, and everyone dies…” She says with a tone of complete solemnity.

“Jesus, Ness.” Charity gasps, pulling away slightly to shoot her a disbelieving smirk. “Way to kill the mood, eh.”

“I’m just messing.” She chases Charity across the bed, drawing her arm back around her waist and wraps her own around Charity’s shoulder.

They fall quiet for a moment, Charity letting her eyes flutter closed briefly as she lets her exhaustion take hold of her body. Vanessa was always good at picking the comfortable matrasses. “Remember when we danced to this at your mum’s wedding?” She asks, eyes blinking open again.

“Mhm,” Vanessa’s got her face ducked out of view. “You said he sounded desperate.”

“Still stand by that comment,” Charity shouldn’t be surprised that Vanessa remembers that small detail, but her heart skips happily in her chest anyway, “Made a five page PowerPoint of all the reasons it’s true.”

“No you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t…” Charity mutters, “but I will.”

“You’re awful with computers, Charity.” Vanessa says with a playful roll of her eyes.

“I resent that.” She mumbles, before reverting back to her previous train of thought. “An’ you said it was about pushing someone you love away?”

“Something along those lines, yeah.” Vanessa mutters, sleep beginning to drag her into her subconscious.

Charity draws in a calming breath and drops her forehead to Vanessa’s, ready to join her when she manages to mumble a quiet, “I’m not going to push you away anymore.”

Vanessa’s eyelids drowsily flicker open, but the blue of her irises are alert and focused as they zero in on Charity’s. She can practically see the cogs turning inside Vanessa’s head, registering her words carefully, and it makes her smile contentedly, even when Vanessa sits up. “Yeah?”

Charity nods, shuffling up the bed to mirror her position against the headboard. “I can’t pretend that I’ve had a sudden realisation or something,” she shrugs softly, tugging on her fingers in her lap awkwardly, “I’ve never wanted to do that with you, Ness, run away and all that.”

Vanessa stays quiet but reaches out to pull one of Charity’s hands free from its nervous fidgeting.

“Those mornings I made you cry,” the disappointment in herself is evident in her voice when she speaks and its why she can’t bear to look over at Vanessa. “I hated myself for doing that to you.”

“Why did you?” She sounds so calm and understanding about it all that Charity wants to kick herself for every putting Vanessa through it in the first place, when she knows now that it would have been so much easier to just sit down and talk to her.

“Selfishness, I guess.” She says, looking up to find Vanessa watching her carefully. “I was too worried about getting hurt or hurting you that it just seemed easier to walk away, y’know?” Vanessa gives Charity a sad smile, nodding. “That’s what my dad used to do, init,” Charity admits wearily, not sure if she’s ready to go down this path just yet. But that’s just it, she thinks, Charity’s spent her whole life avoiding things for that exact reason, she’s never going to be ready unless she pushes herself. “I was so busy pushing you away like he did, that I ended up being more like mum than I realised.”

At her confession, Vanessa reaches out and grips Charity’s hand tightly in her own. “You’re not your parents, Charity.”

Charity lets out a sad laugh. “I think that’s why I got so worked up before, because there was this brief moment where I thought I was, like I’d become the worst parts of them.” She continues on before Vanessa can cut her off. “I know I’m not; I’ve got everything they didn’t, don’t I?” Vanessa frowns slightly, confused, and for a second, Charity thinks she’s going to look in the box for something she’s been hiding. “Nothing like that.” She says laughing gently.

Charity doesn’t fight the urge to lean in and press her lips against Vanessa’s then, feeling a soft sigh ghost her across chin as she does so. It’s easy to get carried away in the moment, tugging on Vanessa’s hips so she shifts to straddle her lap, dipping the tips over her fingers beneath the waistband of her pyjama bottoms and skating a tongue across her lower lip. Charity forgets briefly that she’s supposed to be talking, and has to inch away to regain her composure, holding on tight to Vanessa’s hips so she can’t wiggle off.

“I just mean,” she manages breathlessly, “I love you, Ness, I love you so much, and I know I’ve never said it before but I always have and that’s more than my dad could ever feel for someone, isn’t it?” Her words come out as one, but she continues anyway, “And I feel loved, too, that’s something my mum never had, ‘cause when you look at me like that,” she sighs and waves a hand towards Vanessa’s face, features softening almost dreamily, “I can feel it, and it’s the same with my kids an’ Chas.”

Charity winds her arms tighter around Vanessa’s middle and drops her forehead to her chest, inhaling the familiar scent.

“I never thought I’d have that, eh?” Vanessa’s hand comes to tangle in her hair, easing her head back. “An’ now I know I’ve got it; I don’t ever want to let you go again.” She says, leaning in to press her lips against Vanessa’s.

Vanessa moans against Charity’s mouth, pressing in harder until she feels her back bump solidly against the headboard. “I’m going nowhere.”

She only just manages to get the words out before Charity flips them, knocking the wind from Vanessa’s lungs with a breathless ‘umpf.’ “Might need you to sign on the dotted line, babe.” Charity rasps into the crook of Vanessa’s neck, trailing the tips of her fingers up beneath her top. “Make it official an’ tha’.”

“Or,” Vanessa starts, curling her hands around the hem of Charity’s t-shirt to hike it up over her head in one practiced sweep, “you could just ask me to be your girlfriend?”

Charity pulls away at that, only a couple of inches, and uses the headboard to steady herself. She has to chew on her lower lip to fight the smirk that’s threatening to show, “oh babe, that’s a big step…”

For a second, Vanessa pauses, but Charity watches the amused exasperation replace the panic and only just dodges the slap to her arm. “Hard work, you.”

“Not the first time you’ve said that.” Charity leans down again and catches Vanessa’s lips with her own. “Keep coming back don’t you?” Charity says and dips her fingers below Vanessa’s waistband.

“You’re worth it.” Vanessa says against Charity’s mouth, refusing to break the contact, hips bucking up in the process. “But if you don’t do something with those hands of yours, I might change my mind.”

“Well then,” Charity slips her hand beneath Vanessa’s underwear, teeth clamping shut to keep in a groan when she feels just how worked up she actually is, “who would I be to deny my girlfriend that one thing?”


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a lot more I was hoping to add to this, a proposal etc but ED did such a good job with it already I didn't want to try and compete. but anyway, here you go and I hope you all like it anyway!

_With you my life has been so wonderful  
I can't stop now_

_-_

Charity presses her glasses up the bridge of her nose and drops her hand to flick her hair behind her shoulder before remembering its shorter now, sitting comfortably on her collar and doesn’t hang down in front of her face the way it used to. She smiles gently to herself, filling in another answer on her crossword, Vanessa likes it shorter, couldn’t keep her eyes off Charity when she’d come home from the salon two weeks ago.

But that isn’t a change or something that Charity hasn’t found herself pleasantly, and surprisingly, getting used to, because Vanessa always looks at her like she’s seeing her for the first time all over again, always makes her feel beautiful whether she’s fresh out of Bernice’s salon or not.

When Charity looks to her left, Vanessa’s side of the bed is still empty and cold, and the noise of pans gently knocking together down in the kitchen sounds up the stairs. It’s well past the point that Vanessa usually wanders up the stairs and slumps into bed beside Charity, but tonight, instead of following up behind her, she’d let Charity kiss her temple, remaining stoically quiet on the couch and waved Charity off with a muttered promise to be up soon.

The phone call to her mother earlier that day, hadn’t gone the way either of them had hoped it would. Charity starts playing with the ring on her finger, gazing down at it with a thoughtful frown. She doesn’t need to ask Vanessa what her mum’s response had been when asked if she’d come to the wedding, her angry sigh and the way she’d tossed her phone haphazardly to the table was all she needed know that it wasn’t the gleeful scream of joy and happiness that Charity thinks Vanessa had been praying for.

After that, Vanessa hadn’t really perked up, turning down the offer of a quick pint in the pub with Paddy and Chas, she’d even ignored Rhona’s phone call after they’d had their dinner, and Charity could barely draw two coherent words from her while they put the boys to bed.

It’s half an hour later when the tired steps of Vanessa’s feet hitting the stairs pulls Charity’s attention away from her crossword again. She yawns the same moment she pushes their door open, managing to twist it into a half smile when she catches Charity watching her over the top of her glasses. “Wanted to finish that washing up.”

Charity hums softly, folding up the newspaper and tossing it to the nightstand. “Sorted?”

Vanessa nods and perches herself on the side of the bed, her back to Charity. She pulls her shirt up over the top of her head but doesn’t make a move to finish getting changed, her body stilling coldly. “I’m sorry.” She whispers softly into the quiet room a second later.

Charity rolls away from the headboard, flopping down behind Vanessa to stare up at her with a smile she hopes Vanessa will mirror. “What for?”

Sighing, Vanessa rubs her forehead and looks down. “For being a moody cow all night.” Her lips eventually crack into a half-hearted smile when Charity reaches up to run her fingers down the back of her neck. “She just gets to me.”

“I know, babe.” She props herself up on her elbow with a need to feel closer to Vanessa, to push those dark and gloomy clouds away from the air around her. “But you never know,” Charity gives a weak shrug and skates the palm of her hand down to the base of her back in a comforting motion, “she might come ‘round, just give her a bit of time, yeah?”

Vanessa huffs out a suddenly irritated scoff, jumping to her feet so she can spin around on Charity, brow set into a hard frown. _Here we go,_ Charity thinks, holding her breath and steels herself for whatever argument Vanessa is about to throw at her. “I shouldn’t have to give her _time_.” Vanessa snaps but she keeps her voice low so as not to wake the boys sleeping down the hallway. “She’s my mum, Charity, she should be happy for me, she should be bouncing off the walls with excitement and begging me to let her help plan the wedding.” She grits her teeth in frustration and then adds, “ _our_ wedding,” as if to remind Charity of the fact.

Charity goes to follow but thinks better of it, resigning to sit in Vanessa’s vacated spot on the side of the bed. “Ness, I know-”

“No, you don’t.” Her voice drops an octave with a warning finger pointed at Charity to silence any protest. “You’d have thought that after twenty-flippin-years, she’d have gotten over this bloody vendetta she’s got against you.”

Charity can’t help it, the way she looks down remorsefully at her hands linked in her lap, because she knows, and there’s no doubt in her mind that Vanessa knows too, that if she were to be marrying someone else, that’s exactly how Mrs Woodfield would be acting. Instead, Vanessa’s own mother is pushing her away, again. She’d acted the same way when Vanessa had informed her that Charity and she were back together, and then moving in, and so on and so on. “Hey, stop, stop.” Charity reaches out to catch Vanessa’s hand, bringing a stop to the aggravated pacing. “Look at me, Ness.”

For a moment, Charity worries that Vanessa’s too riled up, that she’s going to snatch her hand back and storm out of the room, but after a few nervous beats of her heart, Vanessa finally lets her eyes flicker down to meet Charity’s, her whole body softening almost immediately. “She _will_ come around because she’s your mum, Ness.” She says. “That’s what mum’s do.”

It’s clear that Vanessa doesn’t believe her reassurances, the tension doesn’t let up from the darkening blue of her eyes and her jaw remains set into a hard angle. “Doubt it.” She mutters indignantly.

“Come here,” she tugs gently on Vanessa’s hand until she steps between her legs. Charity winds her arms around Vanessa’s middle and presses her hands firmly to the back of her hips. “Whatever it takes babe,” Vanessa’s hands come to rest on Charity’s shoulders, one coming round to lace through short blonde hair, “if we need to push the wedding back a few months for her to pull her finger out, or if we need to can-”

“No.” Vanessa butts in forcefully, shaking her head when her fingers in Charity’s hair tug a little too hard. “We’re not calling the wedding off _or_ pushing it back.”

“But if your mum-”

“Nope.” Vanessa cuts her off again, this time her shoulders drop, and her face softens, she leans down to drop her lips to Charity’s forehead as she speaks. “If she doesn’t change her mind then that’s her problem, not ours.”

Charity feels an uncomfortable bout of guilt rise in her throat and she buries her face into Vanessa’s sternum to keep it from showing too obviously on her face. “She should be at our wedding, Ness…”

“I know.” Vanessa whispers, nodding sadly with her fingers racking through Charity’s hair but she doesn’t say anything after that. They stay in that position for a couple of minutes more, feeling Vanessa’s breathing even out as she calms down, until she pulls away. “I’m gonna go get washed. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Okay.” Charity doesn’t miss her chance to reach out and give Vanessa’s backside a playful smack, smiling up at her when she shoots a glare over her shoulder. “I love you.”

Vanessa pokes her head back around the door frame, a smile coming back to her lips. “I love you, too.”

-

“Hey, babe.” Charity tries to keep her voice steady, keeping the nerves from seeping down the line and betraying her intentions to Vanessa before she’s even had the chance to try. “What’s up?”

“Came home for lunch but you’re not here.” Vanessa says hesitantly and Charity can hear the sound of rustling in the background.

She stares up at the obnoxious design of an eagle sitting on a branch of a tree in the window of the front door and rolls her eyes, fitting, she thinks with a silent scoff. “Sorry, I’m in town, needed to nip to the shops, I completely forgot, babe.” It doesn’t surprise her anymore, the guilt that rises low in her stomach whenever she lies to Vanessa. Once over, lying was second nature to her, it would slip easily from her lips and she wouldn’t even blink, wouldn’t give it another thought. But now, Charity feels her tongue fighting it, curling around the words like they’re poison. She catches a quiet sigh from Vanessa’s end, slightly disappointed, and Charity’s shoulders drop in defeat. “I’ll cook dinner tonight, make it up to you.”

When Vanessa replies a moment later, Charity’s relieved to hear a smile in her voice. “In other words, you’ll fetch a Chinese home with you?”

“Rude.” Charity lets a gentle laugh escape her for the first time that morning. “But yes. I’ll see you later, babe.”

Vanessa chuckles and it makes Charity’s heart flutter in the chest the same way it always does. “See you later, love you.”

“Love you, too, Ness.”

The conversation, while brief, manages to calm Charity’s nerves somewhat despite what she’s about to do, and she takes a few purposeful steps that leads her up to the front porch. But then then nerves are catapulting back when she taps her knuckles against the door and the silence that follows drags her back in on herself.

This is a mistake, a huge, momentous mistake, because when Vanessa finds out, and she will, she’s not going to be happy that Charity’s gone behind her back. Especially with something like this. She should just walk away, head into to town, and get that Chinese.

But just as she’s about to just that, take a step backwards down the steps and make a break for her car sitting on the side of the road, the front door swings open and Charity comes face to face with a distant memory of a nightmare.

“Mrs Woodflied,” she starts, and her voice gives out a treacherous waver. “I don’t know if you remember me-”

“Charity Dingle.” She’s cut off before she can finish and, Mrs Woodflied, older now, hair greying and face sunken slightly, still manages to put Charity on edge, somehow manages to tower over her even though Charity has gained a few inches on her over the years. “What do I owe this… _pleasure_?”

The way she says that last word makes Charity think that it’s the exact opposite, that there’s still something toxic between them. “Do you have a minute?”

Mrs Woodfield hesitates for a second before she lets out a disgruntled sound from the back of her throat and steps aside, holding the door open for Charity to enter. She feels judging eyes drag up and down the length of her body as she hangs up her coat, boiling the blood beneath the surface of her skin. “Can I get you a drink?” _Polite as ever_.

“Tea, or a water, would be fine.” Charity manages to say around the lump of nerves freezing painfully in her throat. Mrs Woodflied nods her head towards the kitchen, gesturing for Charity to follow.

She’s not sure where Vanessa gets her tea making skills from, it’s definitely not her mother because when she takes a sip of the scalding hot drink – more out of appearing calm and collected than out of a need or want to actually drink it – its strong and bitter the way Charity used to like it, but instead of drawing a smile to her face like it normally would first thing on those mornings that feel so long ago in the past, a frown draws her lips down. She stays hovering by the counter where she feels safest while being backed into a corner and Mrs Woodfield sits herself down at the small kitchen table, looking up at her expectantly.

“So,” She says and Charity gulps, beginning to panic. “What can I do for you?”

She drums the tips of her fingers against the mug, fidgeting nervously as she tries to find the words, tries to form a coherent explanation, but the way Vanessa’s mum is staring up at her has her brain short-circuiting and her tongue swelling painfully in her mouth, threatening to choke her. It’s probably why, when she does manage to blurt out a sound resembling words, she says, “I’m marrying your daughter,” her eyes bulge out of her skull and a deep red blush of embarrassment swarms her cheeks, “Vanessa and I are getting married.”

Mrs Woodfield is quiet for a second before she speaks up, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs. “I’m aware.” Of course she is, Charity was there when Vanessa made the phone call with her hands wringing nervously in her lap.

“Yes, obviously.” Charity stutters and pulls in what she hopes will be a calming breath through her nose under the unimpressed scrutiny of Vanessa’s mum. “I just, I know you don’t like me.” A noise escapes Mrs Woodfield then, somewhere between a scoff and a snort, and Charity tries to back further into her corner away from her. “And I know you’ve never approved of Vanessa and-”

“I’m going to stop you there.” Mrs Woodfield holds up a silencing hand but doesn’t make a move to leave the comfort of her chair. “I stand by what I said all those years ago, that I don’t think you’re good enough for Vanessa.” Charity wants to argue but manages to keep her mouth shut. No good will come from picking a fight now, not when she’s trying to fix this mess that she’s become the centre of. “So, I’m not about to change my mind, I told her I wouldn’t stand by and watch you hurt her again. If she wants to give you a second chance, that’s perfectly fine, but I won’t be there to watch her do it.”

Charity, despite her own family drama, can’t quite believe what she’s hearing. Sure, Mrs Woodfield was usually cold and harsh, and on more than one occasion she was those things with Vanessa, but Charity knows she loves her, knows she cares for Vanessa and wants her to be happy. “It’s her _wedding_ day-”

“People don’t change, Charity.” She pauses to take a sip of her tea, but her eyes don’t leave hers. “You’re the same person you were back then, and you might not think it now, but you’re only going to hurt her again, unintentional or not, and it’ll just be as bad this time.”

Even through her nerves, Charity can feel something ugly beginning to fizz low in her stomach, a sort of anger she hasn’t felt in a long time, but to let it show now, to let it reach the surface, would be catastrophic for Vanessa’s relationships with both Charity and her mum. She’s already crossing a line by coming here. “She wants you to be there.” Her voice doesn’t stay as even as she wants it to.

“And like I said, I’m not about to watch my daughter throw it all away for a woman who thinks of no one but herself, for a woman like you.” Her words alone would have had that ugly bout of anger erupting from Charity’s body, but the way Mrs Woodfield’s face twists, lip turning up at the same time, is too much and Charity slams her mug forcefully down on the counter. She thinks, maybe, that the handle breaks off in her hand but she’s so angry in that moment, rage burning through her veins, hot and painful, that she doesn’t care to check. Because she’s reminded with a red-hot start, of the way Mrs Woodfield had spoken to her years before, the past that Charity had tried so hard to move on from, thrown up in her face like a car ploughing through a puddle.

“Right,” Charity starts, rounding on Mrs Woodfield with an outstretched finger, ready to wipe the unwavering calmness off her face. “You have no right, _no right_ , to judge me for my past, call me what you want, _slut_ , _prostitute_ , go on, I’ve hear them all, but I’d like to see you try when your past is just as fucked up as mine.” She snaps, feeling that anger turn cold as she surpasses her boiling point. “Man, after man, pushing Vanessa around-”

“Charity-”

“No, it’s your turn to listen now.” But it’s as she continues to speak, that she feels her anger begin to falter and the realisation falls on her that Vanessa isn’t only going to kill her when she finds out, but the resounding silent treatment and the disappointed looks that will follow, that it’ll last a really, _really_ , long time… she hides the shudder well. “I love Vanessa, I always have, she makes me laugh, she makes me want to be a better person, for her and our kids, but what I did in the past…”

She’s forced to trail off when Mrs Woodfield suddenly stands, side stepping Charity wordlessly to empty her cup into the sink. “I wasn’t talking about that, Charity.” She says, keeping her back to her. “And I just want to take this chance to apologise, what I said on my wedding day- I shouldn’t have said those things and there’s no excuse for the way I behaved.” She admits defeatedly, shoulders dropping in regret in the same way Charity’s do, both slumping against the counter, shoulder to shoulder. “And while we’re on the subject, it wasn’t man after man.” Her voice takes a surprisingly coy lilt that begins washing away the dregs of anger still live like static on the surface of Charity’s skin. “There was only two after Geoff, the second I married, who I’m still married to now.”

It surprises Charity, how softly she speaks. She’s only ever known Mrs Woodfield to be hard edges and a cold exterior, and to see her now, caving in on herself and bearing something warm for her to see, has the last of her fight dissipating completely.

“Sorry for shouting.” Charity mutters, ducking her head with a slight air of shame when Mrs Woodfield actually turns to smile at her. Her lips turning up in the same way that Irene’s used to when Charity was younger.

“Look,” she says, turning to face Charity, cocking her hip against the sink. “I truly, honestly, don’t have a problem with you, Charity, just your behaviour.” Charity reaches out to the broken mug handle to keep her hands occupied. “I understand that you have a… troubled history, and at the time you were young, so maybe I shouldn’t hold you accountable for what happened as much as I have been.” Mrs Woodflied gives a gentle shrug. “But can you take a second to understand my side of things?”

“Never really tried to see things any differently, other than what Vanessa’s told me.” She doesn’t trust herself to look up, between the embarrassment and shame, Charity doesn’t think she’ll be able to keep herself from bolting.

“You’ve got children?” Charity nods. “Okay, so imagine one of them coming to you on the morning you should be leaving for your honeymoon, distraught and hysterical because they’ve had their heart broken, something you saw coming from the beginning.” She doesn’t like this, feeling guilty for her mistakes, she’s only just managed to forgive herself for what she’d done to Vanessa, but she does what Mrs Woodflied asks of her, imagining Ryan, or Debbie in that position and feels her heart ache painfully beneath her ribcage. “Hey,” Mrs Woodfield taps Charity’s forearm with the back of her finger, “I should actually thank you for making me realise I’d much rather stay with my daughter than go to the Bahama’s with a man so boring that I used to go to bed before eight so I wouldn’t have to stay up and listen to him talk.” That brings a small, sad smile to Charity’s lips. “She stayed with me for a week after that, though. Refusing to eat, refusing to sleep, Charity, she wouldn’t even tell me what happened until months after, can you really blame me for being mad at you?”

She gives a weak shake of her head. “I’ve regretted that morning every day since, y’know…” Charity’s voice gives out a treacherous wobble, her bottom lip tugging between her teeth painfully and she rapidly blinks around the sting of tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “I never wanted to hurt her.”

“No one ever means to hurt the people they love, that’s what makes it worse when they do.” Charity can’t deny that, but she doesn’t want to agree, either, more out of a stubborn need to not acknowledge defeat than anything else and decides to stay quiet. “Would you be happy with one of your children if they told they were doing what Vanessa and you are doing?”

There’s nothing she can say to excuse her behaviour, Charity had spent a good fifteen years trying to do just that, blaming her issues on other people, blaming her problems on anyone but herself. Vanessa’s knocked some sense into her since then, though, she always does when Charity’s in denial of a fact, always puts Charity right when she needs it most. With that sunshine smile and beaming eyes, she doesn’t think it would be possible to ever jeopardise that again, push her away or make a run for it the way it used to be second nature to her. “I bumped into her a while back, when she went down to London for that interview?” Charity whispers and Mrs Woodfield gives her a curious nod, crossing her arms over her chest. “I remember feeling like I’d never lost her.”

“What happened?” She busies herself with gathering up Charity’s broken mug, emptying the cold tea down the drain and tossing the remnants of cheap ceramic into the bin.

“I wasn’t ready,” she says sadly, looking down at her boots, legs crossed at her ankles. “But it felt like nothing had changed, she’s good at that.” Charity laughs and turns to stare out of the window across the neatly kept back garden. “She always makes it easy to love her, don’t she? But I wasn’t ready,” she says it again, “and I couldn’t face hurting her like I did the last time.”

Busying herself with the oven, Mrs Woodfield doesn’t interrupt, letting Charity ramble around the thoughts pushing them to the front of her mind. It comes as a surprise to her, how easy she does it, especially to a woman who had never looked at Charity with anything more than disdain, but there’s something that settles between them, a mutual understanding, or maybe that’s just the maturity that Charity never had way back when she first met the woman.

“But then last year, when I saw her at the wedding again, I realised how stupid an’ selfish I was for doing it, y’know?” Charity lets her eyes wander around the garden, picturing a younger version of Vanessa running around and playing in the snow, sitting in the sun, or jumping in the puddles that form in the grass like their kids do now. “I hate that it took me so long to realise what we could have had if I’d just stopped listening to that scared little girl in the back of my head.”

“It might surprise you,” Mrs Woodfield gently cuts in with a gentle smile that doesn’t look unnatural on her usually icy features, “that we all have that little voice, some louder than others. Just depends what we’ve gone through, I suppose.”

Charity nods her understanding and offers up a hesitant smile of her own. “I’m almost glad it didn’t work out those first couple of times, though.” She starts picking at a bit of broken skin beside her nail. “She has this beautiful little boy now, an’ I have two more, god,” she looks up to meet Mrs Woodfield’s eyes then, hoping she can see the truth that Charity feels welling up around her heart. “They’re ours and we love them more than life itself.” She manages, barely above a whisper. “I have to tell myself that if I wasn’t so selfish way back then, that we wouldn’t have what we’ve got now, we wouldn’t have this little mismatched family.”

Vanessa’s mum comes to settle beside her again, observing Charity carefully. “She talks about your lot just as much as Johnny.” She says and the knowledge tugs suddenly at the corners of Charity mouth, spreading her lips into a wide grin that echoes with a euphoric thud of her heart. “I know she loves you, Charity, but I just worry about her and I don’t want to see her get hurt again.”

Charity’s shoulders plunge in defeat, feeling her muscles strain from overuse high in her back. “I know, and I get it I do, but all those times I pushed her away, or walked out on her, I told myself it was for the best, that I was keeping her safe from me.” She explains in a way she hopes gets the message across, that they both share a lot of surprising similarities that Charity hadn’t realised where there until now. “I can’t promise that I won’t hurt her again,” she spreads her arms wide, opening up, “but can promise that I’ll always love her and I’ll do my damn hardest to make her happy.”

And with that, Charity pushes away from the counter, feeling a little lighter, and less like she’s done something wrong by being here. Because even if she hasn’t convinced Mrs Woodfield to come to the wedding, there’s a newfound understanding that settles between them, a balance that sets their relationship level and even and maybe that’s a good thing. It’s not what she came here to do, but it’s enough. A step towards those family Sunday dinners that Vanessa keeps banging on about.

“Anyway, I best be off.” She says, wiping her palms down the front of her jeans. “Thanks for the… tea and hearing me out.” a sheepish smile flickers across her features for a moment before her face relaxes. “Sorry about your mug.”

-

Charity feels completely drained when she finally gets back to the village, the base of her back aching and her eyes feel heavy and dry. She just wants to curl up on the couch with a glass of wine and stick something aimlessly boring on the TV that she can fall asleep to.

It’s only a couple of minutes after four, though, too early to go to bed like she wants to and just a bit too late for a nap, according to a made-up rule book that Vanessa likes to reference every now and then.

Just then, the woman in question crosses the road and pushes open the gate to their home just as Charity pulls up outside. The only good thing to come out of Vanessa working an early shift, that and saving hamsters, of course, is that she’s home early enough that they can have an early dinner and curl up on the couch together with the kids. She all but tumbles out of the car before she’s even unbuckled her seatbelt, the need to wrap Vanessa in her arms overpowering the exhaustion effortlessly.

“How was work?” She asks, sneaking up behind Vanessa to whisper in her ear.

“Saw you coming down the road you know.” Vanessa grumbles but there’s a smile playing on her lips, albeit tired looking. “Wasn’t too bad, was up at Moira’s most the morning then in the surgery this afternoon.” Vanessa pushes the door open and the sound of Tracy singing along to a Disney song with Moses and Johnny fills their house. “Can’t wait for that Chinese, though.”

“ _Shit_.” Charity slaps her hand against her forehead, suddenly remembering the promise she’d made earlier that afternoon. “Babe, I’m sorry, I completely forgot.”

Vanessa lets out an irritated sigh, glancing down to find Charity’s hands empty. She hangs up her coat on the peg hook in the hallway, beside Tracy’s and trudges through to the living room without another word.

“Babe, look, I’ll cook something, or we could go to the pub?” She says, rushing after her, because she knows she needs to be in Vanessa’s good books if she’s going to tell her where she’s really been. She has to tell her, there’s no question about it.

“Hi, love.” Vanessa drops a kiss to the top of Tracy’s head and slumps down into the couch beside her. “Fine, Charity, whatever.”

Charity winces at her tone, but backs off into the kitchen with a hasty, “Hey, Trace,” and the sound of small socked feet chasing after her. She makes quick work of bashing out three mugs of tea, not as strong as Mrs Woodfield’s because Vanessa doesn’t like it that way, all the while Johnny clings to her leg staring up at her wordlessly with those big wide eyes of his. “You get bored of playing with auntie Tracy and Moses, big man?”

Johnny nods then picks his nose, climbing up onto Charity’s foot and wraps his free arm around the thick of her thigh to hold himself steady.

“Careful, I don’t want to spill these.” He holds on tight, refusing to let go even as Charity starts walking back through to the living room with an over the top waddle. The sight brings a twitch to the edge of Vanessa’s mouth like she’s trying to fight a smile since she’s still annoyed with Charity, making a point. “I’ve got a stowaway…” Charity whispers, handing Tracy her tea first and then Vanessa, tilting her head down to Johnny who’s still refusing to let go.

“He’s been clingy all day.” Tracy says, reaching out to press her finger against Johnny’s nose. He scrunches his face up in annoyance and turns to press it into Charity’s thigh, letting out a little squeal that he’s fallen into the habit of making recently. “Charity, you forgot the biscuits.”

“She’s been very forgetful today.” Vanessa mutters into the top of her mug, shooting a glare at Charity.

Sighing, Charity makes to turn back to the kitchen, shuffling awkwardly, but Tracy stands. “I’ll get them.”

“I’ll nick your spot.” Charity calls teasingly after her, dropping down into the warm cushions when Tracy waves her off. “Babe, I’m sorry I forgot dinner.” She says once Tracy is out of earshot and Johnny climbs up her legs to sit himself between them, he snatches up Charity’s hand and plays with the ring on her finger curiously.

“It’s not just that.” Vanessa sighs, ruffling Moses’ hair when he skates one of his toy cars up the arm of the couch on her side. “You forgot I was coming home for lunch, too.”

Charity turns to face Vanessa, heart aching a little bit because it’s clear Vanessa is still upset about the phone call yesterday, but still refusing to talk about it anymore than they had before bed last night, she’s pushing her anger onto Charity. She’ll let her, if it’s what Vanessa needs, but that doesn’t mean she’s not going to try and help to relieve some of those feelings. Today had been all about Charity trying to fix that, but in the end, she’s probably only made it worse, or she will have, when Vanessa finds out what she’s done. “I just…” Charity trails off with a heavy sigh, she reaches out and takes Vanessa’s hand, celebrating a small victory when she doesn’t pull away. “I lost track of time, yeah? I’ll make it up to you, I’ll cook you whatever you want for dinner tonight, okay? I’ll run you a bath and I’ll even let you pick a film for us to watch if Noah doesn’t hijack the TV.”

That last part brings a soft smile to Vanessa’s face and she lets out a quiet chuckle. “A bath sounds amazing, right now.” She says, drawing Charity’s arm around her shoulders. “But I’ll let you off with dinner, don’t fancy food poisoning.”

“Oi.” Charity swats playfully at Vanessa’s thigh. “Pub then? No doubt Tracy will tag along, an’ all.”

“Sounds good.” Vanessa says then turns to tilt her face up to Charity, dropping a quick kiss to her jaw. “But I’m fetching those wedding magazines.”

Charity groans with feigned annoyance, rolling her eyes when she gives Vanessa’s shoulders a tight squeeze. “Fine, but for the love of god, Ness, nothing yellow, _please_.”

It doesn’t take them long to get Johnny and Moses ready, between the three of them, shoes and coats go on easily, and before they know it, they’re making their way down the main road and heading up towards the Woolpack.

Tracy has Johnny on her shoulders and Moses running circles around her, shouting happily, and Charity takes advantage of the brief moment that Vanessa and she has to themselves, tugging on her hand to slow her down. “So, y’know today when I went to town?”

Vanessa nods, looking up at her with a slight air of confusion. “Yeah?”

“Well, I wasn’t actually telling the truth.” She says hurriedly. She needs to tell Vanessa now, get it out straight away before it can sit and ferment in her mind until she reaches a point where she’s too scared to tell her or it’s too late.

“You didn’t get any new sexy underwear, then?” Vanessa pouts teasingly.

“What? No. Wait, what’s wrong with my current sexy underwear?” Charity asks, losing track of her thoughts. “Ness, I went to see your mum-” Vanessa’s going to slap her, or scream at her, or storm off, because her cheeks turn white, the colour draining from her face in fear, or anger, or something that Charity can’t quite distinguish through her own anxiety.

“Vanessa?” They’re pulled from their mess of a conversation, Charity saved from whatever punishment she was about to be dealt, when a voice that Charity didn’t think she’d be hearing for a second time that day, sounds from the car park behind the pub, sending her spiralling further and further into her own panic, feeling suddenly like she’s slipping into a state of delirium, because surely, _surely_ , the chances of Vanessa’s mum showing up are next to none.

But of course this would happen now, and she’s cursing whoever’s looking up at her, her dad probably, because he clearly has it in for her.

“Mum?” Vanessa gawps at the sight of her mother, dressed in the same outfit she was wearing during Charity’s visit with an added dark expensive looking jacket, then pulls her eyes away to glare up at Charity. “What did you do?” She says with a mixture of fear and anger in her voice already putting two and two together, that causes Charity to stumble back a few steps.

For a moment Charity worries that maybe she has well and truly fucked it up this time, mind flashing back to smashing Mrs Woodfield’s mug and screaming at her in the middle of her kitchen, all seeming far worse than being sent to prison or the incident with the horse tranquiliser, the fallout inevitably far worse if this has gone wrong. But when she takes in Vanessa’s mum, strolling down the gravel towards them, there’s a ghost of a smile on her lips. Charity’s heart begins to hammer in her chest.

“What’re you doing here?” Vanessa asks, but despite the worry in her voice and the flash of anger she’d shot towards Charity a moment ago, she doesn’t drop her hand, if anything, she grips on tighter.

“I came to see you,” Mrs Woodfield says, slipping her hands into her pockets, “to apologise.”

Vanessa stutters for a moment until she can regain control of her tongue, glancing briefly up at Charity with a look of complete bewilderment before she speaks. “We’re just going to get some dinner,” she waves dismissively at the pub, “you’re welcome to join us?”

Mrs Woodflied looks between Vanessa and Charity and then over to Tracy and the boys, smiling when she nods, seemingly noticing the rest of their little mismatched family for the first time. “I’d love to.”

They’re quiet until they sit down, Chas waving them a surprised wave from behind the bar, and Vanessa continues to look between Charity and her mum curiously while she settles the boys into the back of the booth.

“I’ll go get us drinks.” Tracy says, hurrying over to the bar before anyone can tell her what they want, practically throwing herself over the top of it to spill her excitement to Chas. 

“So,” Vanessa starts, looking pointlessly down at the menu, she orders the same thing every time, “she was actually with you today?”

Charity looks guilty down at one of the stained beermats. “That she was.” Mrs Woodfield says, a smile evident in her tone. “And I just wanted to say, Charity,” she says, mention of her name pulling Charity into the conversation, “thank you, for talking to me about everything, you didn’t have to do that, and for talking some sense into me.”

Charity’s eyes go wide, because never in a million years would she have imagined hearing those words slips from those lips, never mind being directed at her. “I erm, yeah, you’re welcome.” She stumbles around the sounds of each syllable.

Mrs Woodfield gives her a grateful smile, then turns back to Vanessa. “Don’t be mad with her.” She says with a lilt of teasing to her words that somehow manages to ease Vanessa into dropping her defences. “Charity made me realise how stubborn I was being.”

“Bit of an understatement.” Vanessa grunts into her menu.

“Vanessa, dear, put that down, hear me out.” She says quietly.

Charity stands then, “I’m going to go see what’s taking Tracy so long with those drinks.” She rushes over to the bar, sidling up on one of the stools beside Tracy who’s trying to fill Chas in between her pulling pints for Jimmy and Matty.

“What did you do?” Tracy rounds on Charity, more amusement on her face than anger.

“Nothing bad.” Charity holds up her hands defensively, eyes widening. “Well, not really, I broke a mug and shouted at her… but other than that, nothing reaching my usual standards.”

Both Chas and Tracy howl with laughter, shaking their heads mournfully. “V is going to kill you, babes.” Chas says, sliding Charity a large glass of wine.

“I don’t know.” Tracy says, tilting her head towards the booth. “They’re smiling.”

Charity’s heart eases up on its stamped against her other organs when she catches Vanessa laughing at something her mum’s saying. “At least I won’t be on the couch tonight…”

“Oh, Charity, silly Charity,” Tracy jokes, “there’s still time.”

-

Laughing with almost disbelief, Charity shakes her head and tosses one of Vanessa’s wedding magazines down onto the coffee table in the living room, the corner of one of the pages dog eared. “Look, babe, I’m absolutely thrilled that your mum’s come ‘round.” She says. “And that she’s wanting to help with the wedding planning, an’ all, but there is no flaming way, that we’re having _yellow_ centre pieces.”

“It’s _royal_ yellow, Charity.” Vanessa interjects, laughing gently when she comes to stand in front of Charity, toe to toe. “Much more subtle.”

Charity rolls her eyes with feigned annoyance but wraps her arms around Vanessa’s middle to tug her closer. “I don’t care if it’s been knighted by the flamin’ Queen, yeah? I’m not sitting in there, little bit tipsy, because we both know that will happen, feeling like I’m sat in a field of daffodils.” She snipes.

But her words trigger something in Vanessa’s face, her eyes turning distant. “Daffodils…”

“Babe, no.” Charity groans, pulling away and wandering into the hallway to knock on the landing light.

On her way out of the living room, Vanessa turns the lights off and checks the front door is locked before following Charity up the stairs. “Centre pieces or bouquets.”

“Neither.” Charity shrugs, reaching out blindly behind her to find Vanessa’s hand waiting for hers.

“Come on,” Vanessa whines around a laugh and lets Charity pull her towards their bedroom, “there has to be some kind of compromise.”

Charity makes quick work of yanking her shirt over her head, replacing it with a light blue cotton one that she’s made a habit of wearing to bed ever since Vanessa hijacked her Salvation Army t-shirt. “Tell you what,” she says, folding her jeans and laying them over the back of the arm chair in the corner of the room, “you can have both, as long as there’s no yellow.”

Vanessa sighs, storming into the en suite, “that’s it.”

“What’s it?” Charity asks, following after her and tugging gently on the hem of Vanessa’s – _Charity’s_ – shirt when she doesn’t look at her.

Vanessa takes her time squeezing the tube of toothpaste out onto her brush before she meets Charity’s eyes in the mirror. “You’re not invited to the wedding.”

“Babe,” Charity lets out a disbelieving laugh when she realises that Vanessa’s not about to let this go. “That might make the day a little bit difficult for you.”

“Not as difficult as you’re making it now.” Vanessa mutters, dribbling foam out the corner of her mouth. “Breaking my heart.”

“You’re not about to go all Kiki Dee on me, are you?” Charity teases, taking a purposeful step behind Vanessa and dropping her hands to her hips.

Vanessa leans into the contact, fighting a smile from pulling at her cheeks. “Please, I’m Elton.”

“ _Fine_.” Charity strops, snatching up her own toothbrush and shoving it into her mouth. “But just one: flowers or tables.” Stifling a smile when Vanessa beams at her reflection, bumping her hip with her own, Charity rolls her eyes. “And I’m gonna complain the whole time.”

Without wiping her face, Vanessa spins on her toes and throws her body into Charity’s in an over dramatic hug, pressing her toothpaste covered lips against Charity’s jaw. “Love you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She wipes away the mess with the back of her hand, trudging back through to the bedroom with a muttered, “love you, too.”

Vanessa’s quick to follow, climbing into bed beside her and flicking off the bedside lamp once she’s wiggled herself down into a comfortable position, nestled within the cool sheets. Charity turns onto her side and waits for Vanessa to curl in behind her before she speaks again. “I’m sorry I lied to you today.” She whispers into the darkness, finding it easier to speak now that Vanessa can’t see her face. “I know I shouldn’t have…”

But Vanessa’s cutting her off before she can explain herself, before she reason around the guilt she still feels in her gut. “Thank you.” She sighs gentle and soft into the exposed skin of Charity’s shoulder where her top has ridden down. “I would never have asked you to do that for me.” Vanessa says as she presses a purposeful kiss to her warm skin, sending goose bumps erupting down Charity’s body and her heart hammering against the walls of her chest. “But I’m glad you did.”

“I’d do anything for you, Ness.” Charity says, as she shuffles around so she’s facing Vanessa, feeling her face soften from its worried frown when she finds Vanessa’s eyes glistening with affection. “I might go about things the wrong way sometimes, but I’d never intentionally do anything to hurt you, you know that, right?” Vanessa gives her a subtle nod, ducking her head to catch Charity’s lips between her own and silences any more apologies that are tempted to fall between them.

“I’m so glad you always jump head first into things.” She mummers teasingly against Charity’s lips as she deepens the kiss and lets Vanessa pull her over to her side of the bed.

“Could think of a few other things I’d like to jump head first into.” Charity manages through a quiet moan when Vanessa’s thigh hikes up between her own legs and anymore teasing comments slip from her train of throat, the rest of the world falling away until it’s just the two of them, tangled together without worry or concern.

-

It had seemed silly to spend the night before their wedding apart, tradition and superstition be damned, Charity reasoning that they’d already spent so much time apart already, that she didn’t want to start off their married life together on other ends of the village. Chas had been sceptical when Charity had informed her of the decision and she’s sure she’d heard Tracy scream with horror when Vanessa had taken it upon herself to tell her sister. Mrs Woodfield, however, seemed to approve of the decision, an almost unnoticeable smile twitching at the corner of her mouth during one of their newly habitual Sunday dinners.

There’s an excitement that’s been rippling through their home for the past week, electrifying the air in every room, which is why, the morning of the wedding when Charity wakes up with Vanessa pressed into her back breathing evenly, face buried into her hair, the sound of animated whispering sounds up the stairs from the living room.

“Troops are awake.” Vanessa grumbles, voice filled with sleep. She tightens her grip around Charity’s waist and presses herself further into her back.

Charity lets out a tired laugh, lacing her fingers between Vanessa’s on her stomach. “Leave them to it, I don’t want to deal with their excitement yet.” Charity’s eyes flutter shut again when she feels Vanessa hum out her content agreement into the skin of her neck and pulls their joined hands up to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss to Vanessa’s knuckles.

“Guess what?” Vanessa asks with a hot breathy whisper that makes Charity shiver and her toes curl in the best way possible, feeling heat pool suddenly between her legs.

She can already feel Vanessa’s own body beginning to vibrate with the excitement she feels as her brain starts to wake up, but she asks anyway, grinning into her pillow. “What?”

With a contagious squeal that should hurt so early on a Thursday morning, and grip tightening around Charity that squeezes the air from her lungs almost painfully, Vanessa sits bolt upright. “We’re getting married today!”

Charity’s laughing when Vanessa tackles her with a surprising amount of force, even as she loses her balance on the mattress and they tumble off the edge of the bed, tangled in a knot of limbs. “We won’t be if we end up taking a trip to A&E, babe.” Charity wheezes, latching her lips onto Vanessa’s as she flips them over, still laughing and grinning as she does so.

“Don’t jinx it.” Vanessa giggles against her lips, splaying her hand against Charity’s ribs beneath her shirt. “It’s a Dingle wedding, these things are never smooth sailing.”

“Erm, excuse you,” Charity starts, beaming down at Vanessa, “Chas and Paddy’s wedding was fine.”

Rolling her eyes, Vanessa cranes her neck to plant a kiss against Charity’s jaw and pushes them up into sitting positions. “Oh yeah, forgot we weren’t supposed to talk about Faith and the cake incident anymore…”

Charity props herself up against the side of the bed and gives Vanessa’s hips a gentle tug until she climbs into her lap. “Thank god we were too busy snogging outside to witness it, eh?” She tries to give Vanessa a suggestive wink, but somewhere in the middle of doing so, it dies because Vanessa’s face softens and something in her eyes makes Charity’s heart stutter. “What?” She asks, feeling an uncharacterised bout of shyness rise in her stomach.

Against Charity’s chest, Vanessa melts into her, warm and soft and she laces her fingers into the hair at the base of Charity’s neck. “I can’t believe that was two years ago.” She says, dropping her lips to Charity’s forehead. “Makes me feel all dizzy sometimes when I think about it.”

“Probably shouldn’t remind you how long it’s been since we first slept together, then?” Charity smirks when Vanessa swats at her shoulder. “Might actually end up in hospital then.”

“Stop reminding me how old I’m getting.” Vanessa groans, smiling.

“How old _we’re_ getting.” Charity corrects, playfully digging her fingers into Vanessa’s ribs. “Think I threw my back out last night, babe.” She scrunches up her face in a feigned wince, rubbing at the middle of her spine.

“ _Charity_.” Vanessa gasps, leaning back slightly to hold a hand to her chest before her features sober and her lips smugly twist into a smirk. “I suppose it makes sense, though, you are the grandma.”

“Oi, you,” Charity’s voice turns serious, “we’re not married yet, I can still ditch you.”

Vanessa hums thoughtfully at that, leaning down to hover her lips temptingly over Charity’s. “But you won’t.” She shrugs with a knowing grin, “because you love me,” then she drops her lips to Charity’s, firm and purposeful, and Charity feels Vanessa’s smile widen when she reciprocates.

“Suppose I love you, too.” Charity mutters, but her arms tighten around Vanessa’s waist and she holds her closer.

To Charity’s dismay, they’re interrupted a moment later by hurried banging of fists on their bedroom door. “Stop having sex,” _Tracy_ , “and let us fix you so you look half decent for the biggest day of your lives.”

“Five more min-”

Vanessa’s cut off by another voice, Debbie speaks this time, sounding less than enthusiastic. “Have you told them yet?”

“What? Oh, no, I was going to wait until we did their hair-”

Charity and Vanessa share a brief look of concern before they turn back to the door, bracing themselves for whatever bombshell is about to come falling down on top of them. “Told us what?” Charity calls back, tone serious and a frown etching her forehead, making the worry lines in her skin more prominent than they usually are.

“Nothing!” Comes Tracy’s hurried reply, and Vanessa’s scrambling to her feat in response.

She yanks open their bedroom door and both Tracy and Debbie stumble a few steps over the threshold before they can regain their balance. Tracy at least has the decency to look mildly embarrassed when she looks down at her bare feet, Debbie, on the other hand, just looks plain bored and picks at her nails. “What are you hiding?”

Both Tracy and Debbie turn to face one another at the same time, before staring down at their feet like they’ve just been dragged to the headteacher’s office for a telling off. “Come on.” Charity uses the bed to ease herself up off the ground with a grunt and comes to stand beside Vanessa, crossing her arms over her chest. “Spit it out.”

-

“Babe, hey, stop fussing.” Charity wrangles the iron from Vanessa’s hand before she burns through Johnny’s vest, and moves it to the side. “It’s fine, it’s just one of them, I can send Chas or someone to the shop and they can get us a cheap one to use, y’know, until it passes through…”

Charity trails off, glancing over to Moses who’s shovelling food into his mouth on the couch, looking far too pleased with himself, all things considered.

Vanessa spins around and leans across Charity to point an accusing finger between Debbie and Tracy. “How could you let him _swallow_ the ring?”

“It’s like me mum says,” Debbie starts up, still looking bored of the whole situation as she picks at the fresh coat of nail varnish on her fingers, “it’s just the one, you still get yours.”

“Not helping, Debs.” Vanessa sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose as she lets out a heavy sigh. “Can someone just finish this for me?” She waves a hand at the ironing board before she storms out of the living room muttering under her breath.

Mrs Woodfield, Chas and Rhona show up an hour later, bringing supplies that consists mostly of bottles of Champaign, but Vanessa’s mum reassures them she’s got the ring situation under control while Chas ushers Charity onto one of the bar stools in the kitchen to start on her hair. Vanessa sits opposite, giving into Debbie’s protests that she ‘absolutely cannot do your own makeup’ and beams across the counter at Charity.

She looks beautiful, even without makeup, and for a moment, Charity considers dragging Vanessa out of the house then, still in their pyjamas and driving down to the registry office. They don’t need to stress and pressure of a big old wedding, and she knows that Vanessa would be quite happy with that decision, the thought itself melting something in Charity’s chest, turning her to liquid from the inside out. But if this is what Vanessa wants, to celebrate with all of their friends and family, then who is she to deny her that?

It’s not until an hour later, when Charity’s unceremoniously trying to keep her boobs inside her dress, grumbling when Vanessa comes over to help, that Noah comes barrelling down the stairs, shouting about them being late. Looking handsome and older somehow, dressed in his suit, pale yellow tie to match the bridesmaid’s dresses, and even his top button fastened, he bundle’s Johnny into his arms and grabs Moses’ hand in his, ushering them towards the front door.

Charity’s wants to pause, to save the sight to her memory, but she’s so busy trying to work out which bouquet - both daffodils - is hers and which is Vanessa’s that she misses the way Chas shoots a knowing wink at Noah. “Left one, Charity.” Mrs Woodfield calls out, correcting her ridiculously oversized fascinator in the mirror. “You got your vows?”

“Cars are here!” Noah shouts, voice growing louder as he becomes more and more frustrated.

“Yes,” Charity snaps, flustered, “wait, where are they?”

“Where did you have them last?” Vanessa asks surprisingly calm, and she rounds the coffee table, hoisting her dress out of the way as she moves towards her.

“I have them, mother.” Debbie taps her bag reassuringly with an irritated roll of her eyes.

“An’ I have yours.” Rhona says, pointing at Vanessa. “ _Where’s your dad_?”

“Oh my god, would you all get a move on?” Noah groans. “He’s already in the car.”

“Who’s got the rings?” Charity manages to speak, but her eyes seem to have glued themselves to Vanessa, ignoring the stress for a rare moment that morning, to actually take in the sight before her. The chaos around them seems to slow and quieten, everything around them going out of focus because even after all this time, and today especially, Vanessa always manages to take her breath away, glowing in the stream of sunlight beaming in through the living room window with an effortless ease. “God,” she sighs out breathlessly, reaching out to cup Vanessa’s cheeks. “You’re beautiful.”

“Speak for yourself.” Vanessa tries for a smirk, but a rosy blush is steadily working its way up her chest.

“Right you two,” Tracy ushers them apart, stepping between them, “you’ve got plenty of time to get all mushy after the I Do’s.” They both roll their eyes in unison. “But I think Noah’s about to pop a few blood vestals.”

-

As it turns out, they’re exactly and hour and fifteen minutes early because Noah and Tracy are as thick as thieves these days, scheming and joking becoming a new consistency within their lives. And getting them to the church with plenty of time to spare had been something they’d found hilarious, Vanessa, however, had not even cracked a smile, the stress flowing over her in waves at the thought of showing up late to her own wedding. “You’re always late for these things.” Noah had laughed, skilfully dodging the slap that Charity had tried to land to the back of his head when Vanessa had visibly slumped into Frank’s side.

“Babe,” Charity leans into Vanessa’s ear, they’re hiding around the corner of the church, out of view of the guests that are beginning to arrive in bus loads an hour later, “is that your auntie Barbara?” She asks in disbelief, watching the woman who appears far too old and frail, strut up the path towards the church like her body doesn’t understand the rules of aging. As she speaks, Noah makes his way over to her.

“She’ll outlive the lot of us, that one.” Vanessa laughs, and Charity doesn’t find that at all improbable.

Noah’s ushering her in through the doors when he asks, “Charity or Vanessa?” Charity hears, and smirks, waiting for it…

“Young man,” Barbara snips, pointing her stick at his chest, “I think it should be quite _obvious_ , that I am neither.”

They move to the back of the church after that, chuckling to themselves. It’s quiet round there and Vanessa’s needing to get away from Frank and her mum’s bickering, and Charity needs to be wherever Vanessa is. They sit themselves down on one of the benches and watch Johnny and Moses roll around in the grass in front of them.

It’s a warm day for once, rare so late into September, but the sun continues to shine down, lighting up the golden-brown leaves that still cling to the branches of the trees that line the churchyard.

“They’re going to be covered in mud.” Charity mutters.

“Let them,” Vanessa says, leaning into Charity’s side with a blissfully uncaring smile. “They’ll make us look good.”

“Walking us down the aisle looking like they’ve just crawled through an assault course?” Charity chuckles, turning to drop a kiss to Vanessa’s temple when she laughs and nods. “How’s your dad dealing?”

“With me mum?” She asks teasingly. “Coping, only just, mind you.”

“Must be a shock to his system.” Vanessa grins up at Charity and nods, dropping her head to her shoulder.

“Mum?” Noah’s voice pulls them apart and Charity lets out a disgruntled sound somewhere in the back of her throat.

“We gonna get five minutes to ourselves today or what?”

“They’re ready for us,” Frank speaks as he rounds the corner coming to stop beside Noah, his face dropping in awe. “You both look gorgeous.” He says, a hand coming up to cover his heart.

“Oi, you two.” Noah calls, and Johnny and Moses tear their eyes away from the pile of dirt they’ve built. “Come ‘ere.” They come bounding up the slight bank in the grass at his call, pulling on each other’s matching suits as they do so, laughing and giggling when they trip and stumble. “Moses, you’re with mum, an’ Johnny, you’re with yours.”

It should be an easy enough instruction for them, Moses is already standing in front of Charity and Johnny in front of Vanessa, but both boys stare up at Noah, confused, before turning to look between them like they’re wearing masks to hide their faces. In the end, they switch positions and Charity finds herself laugh when Johnny takes her hand.

“Mum,” Charity points at herself then points at Vanessa and says, “mummy,” just like they’ve tried explaining over and over again, just to make it easier for them when they start school.

“Mummy,” Johnny points at Charity, “mummy,” he points at Vanessa. Moses nods his head hard and pokes out his thumb in agreement.

“Mummy’s.” Moses grins wide, flashing his gapped teeth. “We have two.” Johnny holds up two fingers in a peace motion.

Charity hears Vanessa sniffling quietly beside her, but she can’t bring herself to look, because her hearts exploding in her chest with so much love for these two little boys, and her own tears are beginning to well in her eyes. “Come here, you two.” She opens her arms wide and crouches down, muffling the wobble her voice makes in the two tiny shoulders in front of her when Moses and Johnny jump into her arms. “Love you.” She whispers so only they can hear her. There’s a warm pressure on her back, Vanessa’s hand coming to rest between her shoulder blades and she catches Noah grinning at her when he thinks she isn’t paying him any attention.

Charity, doesn’t try and push that hot feeling down in her chest anymore, hasn’t done for a couple of years now, because it feels like she’s exploding with so much love and affection for this little mismatched family she’s found herself a part of, that she’s not scared of being happy anymore.

That family of strangers who had smiled up at her from the photo album more than two years ago now, had seemed so foreign to her, so out of reach, that she’d began to imagine that it was only ever those boring romantic movies that Vanessa makes her watch, where those smiles could ever be real.

But as she makes her way around to the front of the church, Noah and Moses holding her hands, Vanessa in front of her with Frank and Johnny, she catches Vanessa smiling over her shoulder at her and it doesn’t seem that improbable anymore.

She has it, real and palpable, and when the doors open, her family and friends turning around and smiling bright, she makes a silent promise never to push away this feeling again.

Charity makes that promise three times after that.

The first time is when Vanessa slips a ring onto Charity’s finger, one she recognises through her tears clouding her vision as the scruffy band she’d given to Vanessa at her mum’s wedding, nearly twenty-five years ago, her heart pounding with the realisation and the sheer amount of uncontrollable love she feels for this woman promising to love her in turn, for better or for worse.

The second time that Charity finds herself making that silent promise to herself again, is when Vanessa drags her into the middle of the dance floor during their reception for their first dance, and _that_ song, _their_ song, begins playing. It reminds Charity of everything, every little moment where their lives have intersected over the years, weaving in and out of one another, bringing them back together over and over again until those awkward ‘hello’s’ had turned into dreamy ‘good morning’s’.

The third, and the final time, is when Charity’s dragged into a hidden corner of the reception room by Vanessa, slumping down onto a vacated table where they can’t be disturbed, because let’s face it, weddings are exhausting, and even the centres of attention sometimes need a moment to themselves. But Noah comes wandering over a little while later, hands behind his back and eyes bouncing around the walls like he doesn’t want to make eye contact with his mum and his now step mum. He manages to utter out a hurried “wedding present for you, Ness,” tossing a slim box, the size of a magazine down into her lap before he makes a run for it, not looking back to see if she’s opened it. Of course, Charity already knows what’s coming, but when Vanessa begins to cry, sobbing into Charity’s chest when she lifts the lid to find adoption papers, signed by Noah and waiting for Vanessa’s own signature, she holds her close, clinging on tighter when Vanessa whispers a wet ‘thank you for letting me in,’ and taps gently on Charity’s chest, just above where her heart beats out steadily in response.

Charity never breaks that promise.


End file.
